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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28183374">The Laura Project: Her mother's story</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/StateoftheartWorld/pseuds/StateoftheartWorld'>StateoftheartWorld</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Logan 2017, Wolverine (Movies), X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men (Original Timeline Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alkali, Alternate Universe, Canada, Eden - Freeform, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Genetically Engineered Beings, Hope, Human Experimentation, Human Trafficking, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Innocence Lost, Mexico City, Missing Persons, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Multi, Mutant Powers, Mutant babies, North Dakota, Other, Plot Twists, Transigen - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:13:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>95,165</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28183374</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/StateoftheartWorld/pseuds/StateoftheartWorld</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In 2017 a sixteen year old girl was kidnapped when she was walking home from school. She was taken to a laboratory and forced to carry a mutant baby.<br/>In 2018 Laura Howlett was born in an illegal research facility, where she was raised and put through brutal treatments to make her into a weapon.<br/>In 2029 she escaped from the facility, helped by a nurse.<br/>A week later, she found her biological father. A week later, she lost him.<br/>Today, she is finally safe in Eden, back where she belongs.<br/>More than 20 teenage girls, 6 mutant children, 4 nurses, a whole family, an elderly man, and two grown mutants were tortured and murdered by Alkali-Transigen during these years. The nightmare didn’t end the day Dr. Rice and his people were killed. For the affected survivors it is palpable every day.<br/>This is the story of Laura’s mother…without her.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Laura Kinney &amp; Logan, Laura Kinney &amp; Sarah Kinney, Logan/Rogue (X-Men), Original Character(s)/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. GIRLS NO ONE CAN FIND ANYMORE</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <em>**“A word does not say anything</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>And at the same time it hides everything</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong><em>Just like the wind that hides the water</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Like the flowers that hide the mud” </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>November, 2017</strong>
</p><p>Imagine any given morning: the soft sunlight passing through the curtains, you open your eyes, you wake up. Imagine everything that follows: the missing sock, the unfinished breakfast, the heavy school bag, your mother kissing you goodbye. Imagine it’s Monday. Imagine not knowing that this is your last ordinary morning ever.</p><p>It was a perfect day, the sun was high, the air was hot, bougainvillea flowers adorned the stone walls of the colonial houses around me; the local park was crowded with couples holding hands, small children yanking their mothers' arms, flower vendors arranging roses, and old ladies feeding the pigeons. This was the first time in years I was walking home alone. My best friend, Irene, had moved to Puebla after her little brother died during the devastating earthquake that had rattled Mexico City two months back. I still remember watching the news, a primary school had collapsed and many children couldn’t get out. Everyone was helping, volunteers and rescuers alike gathering in an effort to help clear the rubble. Twenty one children lost their lives. It was a tragedy. Irene’s parents decided it was time to leave everything behind and begin a new life, away from everything that reminded them of their little boy. I missed her.</p><p>My high school was only a twenty-minute walk from my house, which was in the neighborhood of San Angel. The houses in this area were anything but cheap --they’d been originally built by the aristocracy of the capital-- but my dad’s income allowed us to afford it. I have to admit that it was a splendid old property, with its beautiful stone arches and walls surrounding a garden full of colorful flowers and a house with balconies that spoke of another age. My friends said that it was like a small <em>hacienda</em>. Wandering the complicated maze of narrow, cobbled streets that led to the art market and the huge convent was my favorite thing to do in the neighborhood. It made me feel like I was inside a postcard.</p><p>I shrugged my backpack on and waved goodbye to my friends as I walked out of the school. I would usually go straight home, but it was my mom’s birthday and I wanted to grab some of her favorite treats from one of the local coffee shops. I walked past a group of tourists lining up to enter El Carmen Monastery, and then crossed the street, before turning left into Monasterio St. to escape the scorching sun. There was nobody around, not a soul. I didn’t feel scared or anything --this was a safe neighborhood and I went everywhere alone-- but just as I was about to turn at the junction, I heard a voice.</p><p><em>"¡Hey, amiga!”</em> </p><p>I stopped and turned around. It was coming from a black car parked a few yards behind me. I took a couple of tentative steps toward the vehicle, narrowing my eyes to get a better look. It was a man in his twenties, blond, and good-looking. He was wearing yellow tinted glasses and a black leather jacket. Noticing my hesitation, he smiled and waved at me --he seemed foreign. That stupid detail, and the fact that my parents told me to always help visitors, gave me the courage to walk closer to him. </p><p>I stood next to the car window and he smiled again, one of his teeth gleaming with gold.</p><p>“Hola” the young man said, he spoke with a heavy American accent. “I was hopin' ya' could help me find an address. Ya' speak English, right? I’m Donald.” He extended his left hand, turning awkwardly in his seat. For some curious reason, he was keeping his right hand concealed between his knees. I shifted my weight a bit, frowning as I took him in. There was something off about this man, a mocking liveliness that was both charming and scary. Strangely, it felt wrong to just turn around and walk away, so I covered the two or three paces between us and shook his hand.</p><p>Up to this day I can’t remember much of what happened next. Something as cold as ice caught my forearm, grasping it tightly. One second I was alone with this man and the next someone was going to my back. A chunky hand that smelled of petrol covered my mouth and a big arm snaked around my waist, lifting me off the ground. In less than five seconds I was inside a vehicle, not the black car, a different one. It was big and white. A van. Fighting was useless, and as I was opening my mouth to scream, I felt a needle stab into my arm. I could not see right. I did not feel right either. My eyes began to close even though I tried to keep them open. Time started to slow down. The world went dark and silent.</p><p>+++++++++++++++++++++++++</p><p>I opened my eyes to make sure that I was in my room, but what I saw brought me awake almost instantly. Instead of my curtains and windows, my dresser and door, I saw the inside of a jail cell. I looked down, checking my body for wounds or scars. I was wearing a hospital gown, the bright lights above me were hurting my eyes. I gazed around, trying to find some clue as to where I was, but all I saw was white and more white. The room was empty except for the small, steel bed I was lying in. There were not any windows, not even a skylight. I had been thrown into a white cube. </p><p>I jumped up and out of the bed, or tried to, my legs would not work the way I wanted them to. I fell, then tried to get up and away but it was no use. I was drugged, they had drugged me. Summoning all my patience I took a deep breath and slowly moved my toes and feet, they were stiff and incredibly cold, but after a couple of minutes the numbness began to subside and I was able to get up. Trembling with cold I looked around, the room was smaller than I’d thought and it smelled of cough syrup. I was terrified --I knew I’d been kidnapped-- but panicking wasn’t going to solve the situation. I had the stupid hope that maybe I’d been rescued and brought to a hospital, although no hospital would keep their patients in a room like this.</p><p>It was quiet. Too quiet. I needed to find a way out before my abductors walked in, so I staggered toward the door and put my ear against it, listening hard. No voices or shoes hitting the floor could be heard, only the buzzing sounds coming from the lights in the ceiling. Holding my breath, I slowly pushed the door open --to my great surprise, it wasn't locked, maybe they'd assumed I’d stay drugged for much longer-- and peeked out. I looked round to try to find out where I was. It was definitely a hospital, a kind of psychiatric ward, it looked like one. I stepped out into the long, white corridor and began to take short accelerating steps, searching for a way out.</p><p>I turned right, then turned left, but everything looked the same, like a maze. This unsettling hospital had no windows. It was suffocating, airless, claustrophobic.</p><p>“Hey, you!” someone yelled behind me, startling me. I turned to look and saw a man in a lab coat at the end of the corridor. Instinctively, I began to run, aiming for what looked like another corridor, desperate to find a door that looked different from the rest. I was panting, my head was spinning, I was so agitated that I didn’t realize there was someone in front of me, ready to catch me. He was huge, like a body builder, like an ape. I stopped dead in my tracks and, before I knew what was happening, he had my arms pinned to one side.</p><p><em>“¡Suéltame!”</em> I shouted. I tried to fight, pushing my arms away from my body as far as I could. When that didn’t work, I turned to biting and kicking, trying to hurt him where the sun does not shine. Nothing worked, and as I struggled with this guy, the man in the lab coat caught up with us, holding a syringe.</p><p><em>“¡No, no. Por favor!”</em> I pleaded with him, but he just ignored me and grabbed my lower arm. Even though he was too strong I kept fighting, and the more I pulled the tighter his grip became. All of a sudden I just wanted to get away from them, nothing else mattered. I jerked my arm as far as I could and brought a leg up, kicking the nurse –or whatever he was—in the face. The syringe fell to the floor.</p><p>“You’re gonna pay for that” the huge man growled, turning me over. It was the first time I was looking him in the eyes, and I was terrified at what I saw, he looked like he wanted to rip me apart. I squeezed my eyes shut as he grabbed the front of my gown and pulled up--</p><p>“DON’T!” the nurse yelled before the man could slap me. I turned my head to look, he was touching his face, trying to hide the red gash that I'd left on his cheek. “We can’t touch this one, at least not now. She’s… important”</p><p>“But she’s fighting!” the ape-like man hissed. Apparently, it was his job to hit people. </p><p>“Exactly” the nurse said simply. There was a short silence, and I had the feeling that I was missing something. “Just hold her still, will you?” he finally breathed, picking up the syringe from the floor.</p><p><em>“¡No, No!” </em>I yelled, shaking my head as the hitman jerked me around and grabbed my right arm once again. I flinched when I felt the pain. My head swam and my legs quit working altogether. I would have fallen if he hadn’t caught me in time.</p><p>“Take her to room 55” I heard the nurse say. “And DON’T hurt her”</p><p>"<em>Aggressive bitch</em>, man" the bulky man whispered under his breath, taking long strides. </p><p>I was heavy, sinking. My mind was going dead as I struggled to remember why I shouldn’t be falling asleep. For a moment I thought I was five again and the man holding me was my dad. I felt him put me in bed before he walked off. <em>He couldn't be my dad...my dad usually stayed with me until I was asleep. I was afraid of the dark. The dark.</em></p><p>+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++</p><p>The floor of the whole room tilted to one side, I was dizzy, but not confused. I remembered everything. It was quiet; the only sound was the guard’s shoes hitting the floor as he walked back and forth. The pain was familiar now, sharp and brutal. Tears began to run down my face as I covered my mouth to keep from screaming, it helped a little but it did not keep me from sobbing.</p><p><em>“No llores”</em> I heard a soft voice whisper. <em>Don’t cry.</em></p><p>I lifted my head to see who had spoken to me. There were two girls sitting on a bed in front of me. Two blurry, ghostly figures dressed like their surroundings. <em>White and more white.</em> I rubbed my eyes rather roughly, my vision growing from dark to blue to pink to orange, and stared at their nearly expressionless faces. They looked shy and nervous and insignificant –<em>resigned</em>-- as though they’d lost all hope.</p><p>“<em>Hola” </em>one of them said quietly. It was a tall, blue-eyed girl with ashy blonde hair. <em>“No te preocupes, ya sé que no te puedes mover mucho</em>” she added hurriedly, moving to help me sit up. <em>‘Don’t worry,</em> <em>I know you can’t move much’. </em>She had a kind face and spoke with a northern accent. I turned my eyes to the other girl, she looked like she came from a village. She had big, expressive dark eyes, and her long, shiny black hair was held up in a lose ponytail. <em>Indigenous</em>. Neither of them was from Mexico City.</p><p>I wiped away the tears from my eyes as the tall girl stroked my hair and smiled. Now that I was sitting, I could see them more clearly. My head swam and my gorge rose at the sight. They were pregnant. <em>Heavily pregnant.</em> The dark-haired girl must have noticed that I was staring at her belly because she looked down and made a face, like she’d recalled something unpleasant. Somehow, I was expecting her to instinctively rest her hand on her stomach and rub it gently like most pregnant women do, but instead, she leaned back, propping herself on her forearms.</p><p>“This is what they do to us here.” she said in Spanish, gesturing to her swollen belly. “They make us carry these <em>things</em>.”</p><p>“Thi…things? I repeated, feeling the impulse to get up and run, or to be sick. I wasn’t a baby expert, but I knew that mothers don’t call their children ‘things’ --unless they are mentally unstable or the baby is…well…not a baby. I turned to the blue-eyed girl, looking for reassurance, but she dropped her gaze and nodded in agreement.</p><p>“This is an underground laboratory” The girl went on. “They snatch girls from all over Mexico to experiment on them. You arrived three days ago. We've been watching you sleep.”</p><p>“Three days ago” I mumbled, glancing at the girl’s thin, dark face as she stood up and came to sit beside me.</p><p>“I’m Yezenia, and this is Daniela.” she smiled, gesturing toward her companion, although said smile did not reach her eyes.</p><p>“I’m Paulina” I replied. “Where are you from?”</p><p>“I’m from a small community in Tabasco” Yezenia said. I opened my mouth to speak, but she shook her head. “I know what you’re about to ask, and the answer is… <em>I got tricked</em>. I used to live with my grandmother and my five younger siblings in a small house. We are very poor. I had to drop out of school and become a domestic worker so my brothers and sisters could get an education” The girl sighed and looked away, like she was staring out an invisible window. “One day, a man showed up at our door saying that he worked at one of the local clinics. According to him, they were recruiting volunteers for a pharmaceutical study. He said it was <em>safe and well-paid</em>. I knew that my<em> abuelita</em> wouldn’t let me volunteer, so I went to the clinic on my own one evening after work. There were many girls in the waiting room, all from nearby villages, all of them poor. The doctors performed a pap smear, a uterine check, a drug screen, and much more. They said they were going to test a contraceptive pill. It was all very strange, but I didn’t say anything because they actually gave us some money that day, just for showing up. A few weeks later I returned to the clinic to see if I’d been chosen, but there wasn’t any clinic.”</p><p>“What?” I gasped.</p><p>“The place had been turned into a call center. Two days later I was kidnapped a few blocks from my house and brought here, so I guess I was an excellent candidate after all.” she concluded.</p><p>There was a beat of total silence. I watched as Yezenia’s face grew sad and serious. Daniela reached out and rested her hand against Yezenia's, full of pity, before speaking.</p><p>“My story is very simple. I’m from Los Altos de Jalisco.” Daniela began. That explained her looks and accent. “I used to live there with my parents and my little sister, working as a waitress in a restaurant. It was my dream to travel to New York before turning twenty, so I was earning the money” she said quietly, looking up at the ceiling as though there was something there. “One of <em>their</em> men --a dark-haired, green eyed American guy-- posed as a client and flirted with me in broken Spanish. I thought it was cute. He was the most interesting thing that had happened to me in months. He wanted me to go with him to a local bar not far from where I worked, but I told him that I couldn’t. He insisted over and over again, smiling and touching my hand, until I –stupidly-- said yes. So after my shift we went out and had a few drinks. I remember feeling tipsy and…” she trailed off, blushing. “Well, you can imagine what happened next. We went to his place and had sex, although I can’t remember much –he’d put something in my drink. The next day --or I don’t know when-- I woke up here and... ”</p><p>She stopped speaking and she seemed to be recalling some blurry memory. Her eyes went wide, her breath caught. <em>Wrong</em>. She was not remembering something, she was feeling <em>something</em>.</p><p>“Is it…<em>you know</em>?” Yezenia asked her friend.</p><p>“Yeah” Daniela whispered. She was frozen, staring at the floor, it was easy to see the terror in her eyes.</p><p>“Tell us about you” Yezenia said quickly, trying to distract my attention from her friend.</p><p>“I…I’m from Mexico City.” I stammered. “I live with my parents. To be honest, I don’t know what happened. I was just walking home when—"</p><p>“When someone threw you into a van and brought you here, we know.” Daniela cut me off, staring off into space, wiping invisible sweat from her forehead. “There’s no need for her to tell us, Yezenia.” Her voice was strong again. I measured the color in her face, she was slowly coming back to herself, even if her eyes seemed empty and hard. No one moved for several seconds.</p><p>“Are there other girls in here?” I asked stiffly when they didn’t speak.</p><p>“Yes, the security guards talk about them, but we’ve never seen them.” Yezenia answered in a lifeless voice, and I couldn’t help but glance one more time at her stomach. “Oh, don’t be frightened. You'll be fine.” she added quickly, reading my expression. “They don’t experiment on us<em>, I don't know why I said that,</em> we just have to carry these…babies. They are babies, just babies. Aren’t they, Daniela?”</p><p>In response, Daniela moved closer to me, ignoring her friend. </p><p>“This place is called Transigen” she whispered confidentially. </p><p>The name hit me like a truck.</p><p>“Transigen?” I frowned. It was too familiar, I’d heard it before. No, I’d seen it somewhere. <em>Transigen…Transigen…</em></p><p>“There was four of us in this room a month ago.” Yezenia explained, ignoring my puzzled expression. “We don’t know where they are, the doctors took them away.”</p><p>“They gave birth” Daniela muttered, and Yezenia turned and glared at her. <em>Shut up!</em> “Many tried to induce their own abortions, of course. Nobody here wants to be<em> taken away</em>.”</p><p>“I don’t understand” I whispered “That’s extremely dangerous. You could bleed to death.”</p><p>“Well, we tried too and we’re still alive” Daniela replied, and at this, my mouth fell open.</p><p>“You? But why—” I began, before she cut me off.</p><p>“Because if we <em>had a miscarriage</em> maybe they would think we were not fit for this, maybe they would let us go!” Daniela practically shouted, jumping to her feet. “These are not normal babies.”</p><p>“Daniela…” Yezenia grumbled, paranoia and fear showing on her features as she threw nervous glances in my direction. Daniela leaned toward me in response and whispered one single word.</p><p>“Mutants”</p><p>I perked up a bit, my eyes flickering between the two of them.</p><p>“Mutants?” I choked. That was impossible. According to everybody, no mutants had been born in more than 16 years. Despite my misfortune, I didn't fail to find the confession completely absurd. “You mean this place is like Jurassic Park?” I snorted. </p><p>“Actually, yes” Daniela hissed through gritted teeth, throwing daggers at me. She wasn't kidding. </p><p>“Don’t ask us why or what for because we don’t know.” Yezenia murmured in a low, urgent voice, crossing her thin arms over her body. “We know very little about this place, nobody ever tells us what’s going on.”</p><p>“Then how do you know all this?” I inquired.</p><p>“One of the other girls spoke English and she heard them talking” she explained.</p><p>“She’s gone now.” Daniela muttered, and a wave of guilt washed through me. This was truly serious.</p><p>“I’m sorry I made a joke. I do believe you, I do. It’s just that…” I tried. </p><p>“It’s ok, we know. It doesn’t make any sense.” Daniela exhaled slowly, taking a seat next to me. </p><p>“But why do they speak English?” I asked, puzzled. Hundreds of questions were bouncing around inside my head like a disoriented swarm of bees.</p><p>“Because it’s an American company.” Yezenia answered flatly.</p><p>So this was a laboratory, <em>a mutant factory?</em> I did not want to believe this, but the more I looked at these girls’ bellies, the clearer it became. I was absolutely positive that this was illegal, I mean, they were kidnapping girls for starters! </p><p>The guards had just walked past our cell so many times that when we heard footsteps we didn’t think anything of it. It was when a woman in a light blue uniform was walking towards us that we realized our door had been opened.</p><p>It was a nurse, a Mexican nurse. She was about as old as my mom, with a slow, kind air. She looked like she could change a bandage or clean a wound, but also give a hug or tell a story --unlike the male nurse I’d seen before. She introduced herself with a shy smile --her name was Mónica—and without saying much else she proceeded to take my temperature and look into my throat and ears. Then she straightened her back and began to write a note on a clipboard. Meanwhile, I was looking at her badge.</p><p>
  <span class="u">Mónica Gutiérrez -General Nurse</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>TRANSIGEN</strong>
</p><p>Like a deadened acoustic, like the murmur of a voice in a heavily furnished room, the rather simple logo started to mean something. <em>Transigen</em>… <em>Transigen</em>…</p><p>Something flashed. I narrowed my eyes, focusing on the round, green letters as Mónica asked me to inhale and exhale. And each time something clicked and flashed.</p><p>One of my best friends, Carlos, lived near Perisur, a famous shopping mall located in southern Mexico City. Once or twice a month I would meet him there to have ice-cream or go shopping, and afterwards we would go to his apartment and do our homework on the roof garden. One day, as we were sitting up there, trying to solve a hard math problem, Carlos complained about all the hospitals and laboratories in the area that ruined the otherwise beautiful view, especially the grey, gloomy building surrounded by a fence: Transigen.</p><p>I lifted my head, a rush of hope coursing through me. I was still in my home city. I was close to one of my best friends. If I managed to find a way out, I would be saved. My new friends did not miss the emotion sweeping me away, for they frowned at the same time, puzzled by the unexpected smile on my face.</p><p>Nurse Mónica handed me a cotton T-shirt and a pair of sweat pants, and I reluctantly put them on. They were perfectly clean, and of good quality, but it was evident that they had belonged to another girl. That made me feel uneasy.</p><p><em>“¿Todo bien?”</em> nurse Mónica asked quietly, sensing my discomfort. She looked exhausted, overworked. She was definitely being abused by these people, and just like a seventeenth century slave, she avoided eye contact and moved around in a submissive manner. I felt bad for her.</p><p>“I’m ok, thank you.” I told her in Spanish, shrinking slightly on purpose. I knew that the less trouble I gave them, the less they were going to watch me. And I needed them to lower their guard.</p><p>“<em>Ven conmigo.”</em> Mónica said, smiling tenderly, although her eyes were shadowed with something I couldn’t fathom.</p><p>I felt the urge to ask where she was going to take me, but instead, I simply assented and followed her out of the room, feeling the girls’ anguished eyes on my back.</p><p>+++++++++++</p><p>It was a brilliantly lit unit with shiny white surfaces, stainless steel examination tables, and a perpetual hospital smell. It was cold. There were doctors and assistants surrounding the table I was sitting on, looking at me, speaking as if I wasn't there, not caring at all if I could understand or not what they were saying. I looked at their faces discretely. Despite being of different nationalities –some of them Mexican, some of them American, or even British—they all strangely resembled one another in their white coats and with their empty eyes.</p><p>My stomach shivered as one of them opened his mouth to speak.</p><p>“This is the girl, Dr. Rice” he said, addressing a middle aged, blue-eyed man with an expressionless face. “It took several tries, but we managed to get her. We looked at thousands of medical files, IQ and personality test records, and DNA databases from all over the country, and her profile was among the five best. However, we’ll perform a few tests first because she’s the youngest we’ve had so far.”</p><p>The man called Rice nodded.</p><p>“Yes, I see. Excellent" he muttered, staring at me like a hunter stares at his prey. A satisfied look crept up onto his plain features as he added, "Donald has proven to be an exceptional addition to our team, by the way. He’s a quick study.”</p><p>At this, his colleague's muscles rippled with tension. He clearly disagreed. </p><p>"Yes, well--" </p><p>“She’s lovely, well done.” Dr. Rice cut him off, before turning to the others. "All of you" </p><p>Everyone in the room seemed relieved to hear those words. This Dr. Rice was the man in charge then. Sounds of agreement and polite expressions filled the room as a man who resembled a vulture stood up solemnly and cleared his throat.</p><p>“Thank you all for your presence” he began, surveying his listeners with bright eyes. “I am Dr. Macey and I’ll be supervising the X23-23 test subject.”</p><p>The rest of the doctors sat in silence, attentive, faces politely wiped of all expression.</p><p>“As all of you know, the project’s goal is to create a key weapon for our X-23 program: a mutant with the ability to inflict severe damage on others, but also with the ability to heal instantly. To this purpose, we’ve decided to artificially inseminate this young woman --or <em>the host, </em>as we’ll refer to her from now on—with the sperm of allegedly deceased mutant James Howlett, best known as <em>Wolverine</em>.”</p><p>I was so struck by the situation I was having trouble taking in what he was saying. But thanks to Daniela’s warnings, the doctor’s words didn’t throw me headfirst into a panic attack. I became aware of a stirring among the others, a restlessness that could not be put down to the cold.</p><p>“Our geneticists from the Department of Epigenetics will remove some eggs from the host’s ovaries for fertilization in the laboratory. After a few days, two or three embryos carrying the desired mutation will be returned to her uterus, in the hope that at least one will implant and become a pregnancy. As many of you know, the blood and semen samples collected by some members of our team at Alkali Lake in 1983 got damaged during the cryopreservation process, resulting in the loss of several ‘Y’ chromosomes and other genetical material--”</p><p>“What does that mean, Doctor? Will we have to make special seeds again?” a young doctor asked warily as he half-raised his hand.</p><p>“Probably, I hope not. But it basically means that the resulting test subject will most likely be female, and that we have to be careful how we handle those samples because our research on Weapon X is far from finished.” The doctor replied, mildly irritated to have his speech interrupted. “Gentlemen, the host has been carefully chosen and we’re confident that we won’t be needing multiple tries or complicated modifications in order to achieve our goal.”</p><p>Heads were turning in my direction, and I felt a thrill of fear. I found myself looking straight into Dr. Rice’s piercing blue eyes, who was now gesturing the doctor to take a seat.</p><p>“Thank you, Dr. Macey” he said coldly “That was a very clear and thorough explanation”</p><p>The man who resembled a vulture straightened his back and smiled proudly.</p><p>“And thank you all for your hard work” Dr. Rice went on, clasping his hands as he looked around the room. “Shall we move to the conference hall to discuss the details?”</p><p>I looked down at my hands, shivering. There was the sound of chairs being pushed back, doors closing, people walking around me. Everyone was gone, except for three doctors, including Dr. Macey. They took a blood sample and examined me thoroughly. I was uncomfortable, scared, and embarrassed. I was a virgin, no man had ever seen me naked before, let alone put his hands on me. Angry tears rolled down my cheeks as I witnessed how my intimacy was being invaded. These three men were looking at me like a vet looks at a cow or a pig, making remarks about my body. They never asked if they could touch me or at least tried to make me feel at ease. I felt violated. But I let them. I didn’t put up a fight. I didn’t say a word.</p><p>Instead, I faced the other way and thought of what I’d just heard. It was all true, this bunch of psychopaths were playing God. I had to get out of here before they impregnated me with that mutant’s DNA. I’d heard of him, he was famous, many of my friends were obsessed with the comic books. I never knew these fictional characters were actually based on real people. <em>James Howlett</em>. That was his name.</p><p>I looked around. Now I knew. This was a secret research base disguised as a multinational pharmaceutical company. They said they were going to create a weapon. Maybe they were going to sell it to the highest bidder. Why not? Weapons were the most profitable business in the world after all, and revolvers had fallen out of fashion. No, I couldn’t allow my body to be their vessel. I was not going to have that man’s offspring. I was not going to bring a weapon into the world. Not in this lifetime.</p><p>I let out a sigh and closed my eyes. Daniela and Yezenia were right. These were not babies, these were things, <em>dangerous things.</em></p><p>I did not want a monster growing inside me.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>**"Una palabra", Carlos Varela</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. THE EMPTY BOX</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <em>**"By the cracks of the skin I climbed to the top</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>I climbed the tree to see the world</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>When the gusts came around to blow me down</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>I held on as tightly as you held onto me."</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>I stared at one of the corners of the room where used plastic straws lay at odd angles by a heap of dirty clothes. Empty minutes went by. <em>Hours</em>. <em>Days</em>. Nothing pained me more than the knowledge of my mother sitting in the dark, blaming herself; of my dad, walking fast, showing my photograph to dozens of people, trying to find the one that would lead him to me.</p><p>I listened to the silence. My thoughts, <em>my hopes</em>, were making things harder. The lack of visual stimulation was driving me crazy. I wished I could see the sky, the flowers, the trees. There was nothing to do here but pace up and down or go to sleep, <em>and I was tired of sleeping all day.</em> I would spend hours looking at the ceiling, trying to find a hole big enough to fit a message. A place through which I could send a kiss to my mom, or a hug to my dad. A tiny hole which gave me hope of ever seeing them again.</p><p>The urge to bolt out of the room every time a nurse or a doctor opened the door was increasing every day, but I didn’t know where to run to, I didn’t know where the exit was. They would probably catch me and put chains around my ankles, <em>or</em> <em>something worse</em>. The last time I’d seen Yezenia and Daniela they'd told me they had tried to escape several times without success. It was too easy to get lost in the endless series of identical corridors.</p><p>After the first examination, I’d been given fertility drugs to stimulate my ovaries, and a few days later, they’d taken out some eggs. I was furious. They were stealing some sacred, something mine, something I did not want them to turn into a heartless creature. I went to bed every --<em>night?--</em> thinking about the test-tube embryos growing in one of these rooms, and when I finally managed to fall asleep, I dreamed of malformed babies crawling on my bed. I had to escape before they implanted one of those <em>things</em> in my womb.</p><p>Perhaps I was crying as I backed away from the wall, moving to crawl under the bed –I felt safer there and it was warmer—when I heard a crackle. I stopped, twisting to look at the door. Mónica, the nurse I’d seen before, was walking in with a set of clean clothes and a tray of food. We were given food and water at least once a day, I think. It might have been twice a day or even five times. I didn't know.</p><p><em>“¿Cómo estás?”</em> she asked, settling the tray on the mattress. I grimaced, it was that repulsive oatmeal again. I was not going to eat it.</p><p>“Not good, I feel very weak” I replied honestly as I got up, before slumping down onto the bed. Her face had shown no shock or curiosity when she saw me on the floor. “I’ve never been without fresh air and sunlight for so long before.”</p><p>“You’re weak because you don’t eat” she muttered in Spanish through a shy smile and dropped her gaze, not sure what else to say. Mónica came into my room every now and then, and she was the only nurse that would actually talk to me. They were not supposed to make conversation with the girls.</p><p>I watched her as she dutifully picked up my dirty clothes from the floor. It was easy to see that this place had broken her up. She felt guilty for working here, that’s why she never looked me in the eye. A smarter girl would have retreated into herself and eaten the disgusting oatmeal, but despite my dark mood, I found myself unwilling to give up the fight. This nurse was exactly what I needed.</p><p>Acting on impulse, and before I could quite comprehend what I was doing, I suddenly asked, “Do you think you could get me to a window?”</p><p>Mónica’s eyes widened in shock. “What? I don’t think—"</p><p>“I won’t look out of it, I promise.” I interrupted eagerly. “I just want a bit of sun and air. The fertility drugs cause headaches, you know? It doesn’t have to be a big window, a small one will do.”</p><p>She blinked, moving her gaze downward once more. “I’m sorry, I can’t.” she whispered, shaking her head. “We are many feet underground and this is the bottom floor. There aren’t any windows. I’m sorry”</p><p>I nodded dejectedly, pushing away the food tray before drawing my knees to my chest, trying my best to look disappointed and miserable. It felt wrong to try to manipulate this compassionate woman, but my life depended on it. “Thank you, anyway…<em>Mónica</em>” I said, barely mouthing the words.</p><p>“I’m sorry” she muttered, trying to keep the emotion from her voice as she placed a clean set of clothes on the bed.</p><p>More silence. The only light above our heads was casting eerie shadows on the floor. It was impossible to tell if it was day or night.</p><p>“My life is over, isn’t it?” I whispered suddenly, my head resting on my folded elbows. Mónica did not reply, but I could sense the inward battle she was fighting. “Isn’t it?” I pressed.</p><p>The nurse looked at me for a long moment, her empathetic and guilty eyes taking in my fragile form. I saw it then. Mónica knew more about this place than she was letting on.</p><p>“Maybe I can convince one of the doctors to take you to the reception area in the company of a guard.” she finally said through a sigh, taking the bait. “It’s not much, but the elevator and wider space allow the air to flow in a lot better than here.”</p><p>Perfect. That was the piece of information I was hoping for. There was a reception area with an elevator. That was the way out. And if they had an elevator, they had to have stairs as well. I looked up at Mónica, releasing my legs, biting back a smile as I prepared my next move.</p><p>“Is it far from my room?” I asked worriedly. “I don’t want to go if it’s too far. I’m tired and sore and my legs feel heavy all the time. I can barely walk”</p><p>The last part was true, I’d always been a very active girl and the sudden lack of exercise was taking its toll on me. Mónica stalled momentarily, looking uncomfortable.</p><p>“Don’t worry, it’s not far from here, but I can get you a wheelchair. Well… if they allow you to leave this room in the first place” she finished lamely.</p><p>I was glad Mónica was here, she reminded me of Lorena, a nanny I used to have before my mother quit her job as a stage manager and became a stay-at-home mom. She’d made the hard decision after realising that Lorena knew little things about me  --like my favorite book or the names of some of my dolls-- that she did not. <em>‘I didn’t have a daughter for a strange woman to raise her’ </em>She’d told my dad when he'd asked why she was suddenly changing her life plans.</p><p>“Thank you, Mónica” I simply replied, even though my mind was swimming with more questions. “You’re a good woman. You really are.”</p><p>The nurse smiled, drowning in our newfound ‘friendship’. </p><p>“Eat your food. Oatmeal means <em>breakfast</em>, milk and vitamins mean <em>dinner</em>. Don’t let Time drive you mad” she muttered, turning on her heels.</p><p>I watched her as she closed the door behind her. There was something tragic about this woman, something in her eyes. Her face was constantly twisting into an emotionally pained expression, as if she’d seen the worst of the world inside Transigen. I was afraid, I was very afraid. It had to be tonight. I had to get out of this facility tonight.</p><p>++++++++++++</p><p>
  <em>Oatmeal means morning, milk and vitamins mean night. Got it.</em>
</p><p>I was being fed and watered like a guinea pig in a cage. It had taken me more than three hours to eat and drink the gooey breakfast, and another three to eat the cold lunch. Now I was patiently waiting for my dinner. That was my cue.</p><p>The room was silent but for the heavily accented, echoing drip of the bathroom tap. To aid my concentration, I had closed my eyes and was breathing slowly and rhythmically through my nose. Finally, the door opened. I reflexively pushed myself into a sitting position as a dark-skinned nurse brought in a tray of <em>milk and vitamins</em>.</p><p>I smiled. It meant that most of the doctors and nurses had gone home. The woman placed the tray next to me without glancing up in my direction. I knew her, she worked with brisk, maternal thoroughness, speaking to me only if it was absolutely necessary. I lifted the glass to my face and shoved the straw between my lips, staring at the silent nurse as I gulped a mouthful of milk. Eventually, she offered me a weary smile and pulled a key-card from her pocket, ready to open the door and leave the room.</p><p>I didn’t hesitate. I let the glass slip from my hands, the sharp sound startling the nurse.</p><p>“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” I muttered, feigning guilt, as she turned around.</p><p>The woman looked at me, her face was not angry. Letting out a sigh, she moved onto her knees and began to pick up the mess, shoving the key-card back into the pocket of her uniform shirt. I swallowed hard. All I had to do was snatch the card, spring for the door, and lock her up. <em>I was ready to hurt her if necessary</em>. But just as I was about to pounce on the sorry nurse, I heard voices in the corridor. A familiar voice.</p><p>I held still, bewildered by the unexpected turn of events. <em>Nobody </em>was supposed to be here.</p><p>“Hello, you!”</p><p>I almost jumped out of my skin when the door burst open. I was looking into the eyes of a man, and I knew who he was. </p><p>“It’s nice to see ya' again” <em>Donald</em>, the guy who had kidnapped me, muttered in a west country accent, smiling devilishly as he raised his right hand to wave at me. I held my breath. It was a robotic hand. That was the cold thing I’d felt grasping my arm before they shoved me into the van. I could sense the uneasiness of the nurse standing next to me. She was scared too.</p><p>“Don’t ya' speak?” he pressed, his greenish eyes flickering to the shattered glass on the floor. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t make a sound. To an observer I may have appeared silent and resigned.</p><p>“Whatever, let’s go” he exhaled, taking a step in my direction.</p><p>His action dragged me out of my stupor instantly. <em>I knew what was happening. </em>I tried to scramble away, but before I could jump out of the bed, he seized my arm. I desperately clung to the steel headboard as he pulled and pulled, and still, I didn’t utter a sound. I was out of my mind with horror.</p><p><em>“Fuck!”</em> he blurted out.</p><p>Two bulky guards and a doctor stormed in, pushing a gurney. The heavy door was wide open now. I let go of the headboard and the lack of tension made Donald stumble and fall backwards. I landed hard on top of him, but as I tried to get up, one of the guards lifted me off the ground and threw me onto the gurney. Then they skillfully strapped me to it and pushed it out of the room.</p><p><em>“¡Suéltenme! ¡Suéltenme! ¡No quiero, no quiero!” </em>I shouted, finding my voice at last, as I kicked and tried to wiggle over the T-strap that stopped me from falling.</p><p>“Down, girl” someone said, placing his hand on my chest.</p><p>I felt faint, sick, limp with shock. As I drew breath to scream once more, I realized that this was a wonderful opportunity to study my surroundings. Swallowing my fear, I looked to one side and began to make a mental map, narrowing my eyes in an attempt to spot subtle landmarks.</p><p>
  <em>Hallway, stain on the ceiling…door number 35…turn right…broken tile…turn left…corridor… </em>
</p><p>I whipped my head around, blood pounding in my ears as my eyes desperately searched for the exit. And suddenly, there it was, I got a quick glimpse of the reception area Mónica had mentioned. It was a space about ten feet square, with corridors to the left and right, lockers, and a desk you might see in a hospital. The shiny elevator was made of stainless steel. There were emergency exit stairs next to it.</p><p>The feeling of exhilaration didn't last long. When the room was out of sight I screamed again. I was being wheeled into a brilliantly lit chamber packed with machines, storage tanks, screens, and tubes. It reminded me of a spaceship. Nurses and doctors were gathering around a surgical bed, their faces and hands hidden underneath disposable masks and gloves. They all looked the same, just like everything else inside this hell. <em>Dull, soulless, mass-produced people.</em></p><p>I heard a muffled sound. A man was lifting the lid of one of the storage tanks, pulling out a small, blue box labelled <em>X23-23 embryos</em>. </p><p>“No! Please no! DON’T!” I desperately shouted. Instantly, hands were on me. The box was swelling, growing into something terrifying and unbearable. <em>Claws. Sharp teeth. Disfigured faces.</em> There was no way I could get myself free in time. “Please, PLEASE!”</p><p>My pleas echoed loudly off the shiny surfaces, but the box was already open, carefully being emptied of its contents. Helpless tears rolled down my face. Nobody was taking pity on me. I didn’t want a mutant baby. I didn’t want a baby at all.</p><p>Alien fingers held me still, placing a mask firmly over my mouth and nose. All the strenght went out of me. There was nothing I could say. Nothing I could do. I was drowning in a vivid nightmare.</p><p>“…we’re nearly ready, Doctor.”</p><p>Everything stopped.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>**"To Build A Home", The Cinematic Orchestra.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. THE INNOCENTS</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <em>**“Not really sure how to feel about it</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Something in the way you move </em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Makes me feel like I can’t live without you” </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p><em>I hate you. </em>I groaned a little as I tried to sit up, my hand reluctantly touching where the swell of my belly began. The skin was hot and hard, almost like a rock. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.</p><p>After that tragic night, I had taken up inducing vomiting each time they gave me progesterone supplements in the hope that the embryos wouldn’t attach to my uterus. But the next month my period was late, and I knew they had won. My young and healthy body had accepted the three embryos, but they'd terminated two in order to increase the chance of a succesful pregnancy.</p><p>I was constantly thinking about it, it did seem extraordinary, the ease with which it had happened. It was unfair. I felt cheated. I was furious with myself.</p><p>Being pregnant was the most uncomfortable thing I’d ever experienced. I had headaches all the time, my feet were swollen, the morning sickness wouldn’t go away, and my breasts were tender --sometimes they even leaked-- and my round stomach…<em>Jeez.</em>..I just couldn’t bear to look at it. My body wasn’t mine anymore.</p><p>I tried to escape multiple times without success. All those ideas about keeping a low profile were gone. The situation had driven me to the extreme of my personality. I was desperate. I wanted to go home. I wanted to see my parents and get them to help me get rid of this… <em>creature</em>. I knew it was too late to get a legal abortion, but I didn’t care, I simply didn’t want it to be born. I wanted it dead now.</p><p>Nurse Mónica would come to see me every two or three days. Daniela and Yezenia were gone. My only friends were gone and we couldn’t say goodbye. I didn’t know where they had taken them or what they had done with them, and even if I tried not to think about their fates, the cat was out of the bag and I couldn’t help it. I knew they were gone forever.</p><p>This is how my days went. I barely slept. I barely ate. The only time I ever got to see other human beings was when the nurses took me to the maternity unit to check the creature’s development. They did ultrasound scans, but I never dared to look at the screen. I did not want to see <em>it</em>. That would only make it real. They had a hard time trying to find out the sex of the fetus because it was curled up, which made getting the right angle difficult. I remember fighting the urge to roll my eyes at them. <em>Are you deaf or stupid? That vulture-like doctor said it would likely be a girl! Just let me go already!</em></p><p>“Female” one of them had said when the creature finally uncurled its legs.</p><p>
  <em>I did roll my eyes.</em>
</p><p>They kept calling it X-23. <em>What a name.</em> I smiled every time they pointed out that it was smaller than average. I loved to see their confused faces --if they only knew I was starving it by starving myself. Even if Mónica had assured me that these were perfectly normal babies until the doctors gave them drugs to trigger their mutations, I was afraid it would begin to grow claws and tear my insides apart. I was simply taking my precautions.</p><p>Just as I’d finally managed to sit up, the lights went out. <em>Mierda, </em>I cursed through gritted teeth, feeling a small frown on my face form. I needed to use the toilet. The bigger my belly grew, the less I could hold my pee. They would make me stay in bed all day long because this was ‘a high-risk pregnancy’. I wasn’t even allowed to go to the bathroom on my own, instead, I had to press a button and wait for a nurse to come.</p><p>My back was unbelievably stiff and sore. I reached out and pressed the tiny red button once, twice, three times, but no one came. The urge to pee was almost painful, the creature’s weight was pressing my bladder. I couldn’t wait any longer. Carefully, I put one foot on the floor, and then the other. It was a bit difficult to stand, my legs were weak and I had to support my swollen belly with my hands. I never got that strange urge to rub it, in fact, I hated touching it.</p><p>I walked into the bathroom, dragging my feet. It took me forever to pull down my underwear and sit on the toilet. Blinking sleepily, I wondered why I needed to pee so constantly if so little came out. Once I was done, I grabbed the walls for support and stood up. It was less in the interest of hygiene and more in the way of reestablishing the line between the living and the dead, that I went to the sink and washed my hands. I sighed as dried my hands on my t-shirt. The difficult bit now would be reaching the bed. My senses were fried, but my eyes still managed to catch something obvious and unusual as I went through to the room. The tiny light of the smart door lock was green instead of red.</p><p>They had left it open by accident.</p><p>In one quiet moment I realized that this might be my last chance to escape. There was a pounding in my ears as I carefully opened the door a quarter of an inch and peeped through the crack, adrenaline reactivating all my hardened muscles. The corridor was dark and empty. Encouraged by this view, I opened the door a little further and put my whole head out before slowly tiptoeing into the corridor. With a strongly beating heart, I looked around purposefully for a minute, listening hard for voices or footsteps. Nothing. I was alone. I was completely alone. I stole one more glance behind me as I crossed the first corridor, listening, listening, trying to remember all the little landmarks that would guide me to the exit.</p><p><em>“Right, then left…find the stain on the ceiling…door number 35…turn right…broken tile” </em>I muttered to myself as I forced my legs to move faster. It felt weird walking again. It felt weird having hope again. <em>It felt weird feeling alive again.</em></p><p>Finally, I half stumbled into the reception area. Mónica was right, it was easier to breathe here. It was the first time in months that I was standing in a spacious room, even the scents were different. The elevator was before me now, shiny and smooth. It would have been so easy to press the button and let it take me up into the world. But I couldn’t. Elevators were loud.</p><p>I turned my attention to the stairs then, running my fingers along the handrail, stalling. I was being affected by the fear, the challenge in the air, the danger. This place reeked of danger. I sighed, determined, grasping the handrail with one hand and holding my heavy belly with the other.</p><p>Ascending the staircase was no easy task, the steps were slippery, and I felt clumsy. It occurred to me fleetingly that I’d never been so concentrated in my life, so fully in the moment. It was quite simple, if I allowed any thought to distract me, I would trip and fall downstairs. I saw corridors on my way up, but I ignored them, determined to keep going until I reached the top floor. I took a deep breath and tightened my hold on the handrail, drops of sweat were rolling down my face.</p><p>
  <em>I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t do this anymore. It’s painful. </em>
</p><p>I stopped for a rest and looked around me, panting. The floor I was currently on looked exactly like the one I’d escaped from --this facility seemed to be like one of those Escher paintings where the characters move in loops-- but despite it being quite similar to the others, for some strange reason, it was significantly more haunting. The perfect scenario for a horror movie.</p><p>I passed a minute calming myself. Even though I was feeling a persistent pain in the pit of my stomach, I knew I had no choice but to continue climbing the endless steps. So I wiped the sweat from my forehead and walked toward the next flight of stairs.</p><p>All of a sudden, there was a loud sound, a piercing cry. Instantly, I was crouched behind the nearest wall.</p><p>It was then that I felt it. It swept through me like the wind through a field of grass. At first I thought it was just my stomach growling or nervous twitches, but then it happened again. My hand flew to my taut stomach and I let out a yelp. Below my left breast I felt a fluttering, <em>the kicking of a foot</em>. It had kicked me. The sudden movement had startled<em> it.</em></p><p>The tension in my body was so great that I wanted to cry. That kick was making <em>it</em> real and tangible, the two things I’d been trying to avoid for the last six or seven months. Now I understood why Daniela had looked so terrified when her mutant kid had moved inside her.</p><p>I waited for it to stop wiggling, straining my attention to detect any voices or footsteps as my heart struggled to tame the fear.</p><p>Silence.</p><p>Still overwhelmed, I slowly moved to stand, summoning my legs to do my bidding. Then I heard it again. It sounded like an animal, <em>a cat</em>. But this time, instead of trying to hide, I froze to listen. No, it wasn’t a cat. I had three cats at home and they didn’t meow like that. I stared into the dark as I recognized the sound.</p><p><em>It was a baby. </em>I was on the floor where they kept <em>them</em>.</p><p>I stood still, debating whether I should run upstairs or hide away --although there was nowhere to hide, really. The faint cry was rapidly turning into wails. My head was spinning. If that <em>baby</em> woke anyone up, I was lost.</p><p>Without hesitation, I ran toward the sound. It took a few useless tries until I found the correct room. I turned the knob, slowly, quietly. It wasn’t locked. <em>Obviously, they couldn’t run out of here... right? </em>It was dark, but I could tell it was white and windowless like all the other rooms. I gasped. There they were, a small army of babies sleeping in metal cribs, <em>the reason this place existed.</em> </p><p>I walked inside, baffled. All the while there was a disembodied little voice somewhere inside the room, babbling, trying to get my attention. I blinked and glanced to my left. An eleven or twelve-month-old boy was standing in his crib, sobbing and holding out his small arms over the railing. The scene before me reminded a bit of those Russian orphanages I’d seen on television, where babies spend most of their time alone in cold rooms because there aren’t enough nurses to look after them.</p><p>I shook my head disapprovingly. These small kids had been left to their own devices during the night. Like caged animals in a zoo.</p><p>I hesitantly approached the boy’s crib. I was a bit afraid. These were not normal babies and I didn’t want to get hurt. But he was desperately reaching out for me, and I was so close I could practically feel the heat rising off his little body. I had no choice. </p><p>“<em>Shhh, no llores</em>” I whispered, moving to pick him up.</p><p>The sobbing stopped. I looked down at the baby, he had big, light brown eyes and chunky arms and thighs. His compact body felt heavy and warm. He looked back at me for a beat and then shoved his thumb into his mouth, resting his head on my shoulder. </p><p>Despite being shocking and unfamiliar, the experience was sending a wave of tenderness through me. Mónica was right, these babies were just like any other. They were people<em>. They were human</em>. </p><p>The baby's body jerked and he whimpered once more, frantically sucking on his fist and fingers. I didn’t need to be a nurse to know that this kid was terribly hungry.</p><p>“Shhh, no, no, no. Be quiet” I whispered, feeling extremely uncomfortable as I looked around.</p><p>There was nothing in this room except for cribs, a chair, and <em>a</em> <em>cupboard!</em> I was there in an instant, pulling the handle, but, ironically, it was locked. The boy was becoming more agitated and restless, lifting his head and struggling in my arms.</p><p>A swell of anguish rippled under my skin. <em>Alright, then.</em> Taking a steady breath, I sat on the chair, plopping the baby down in my lap as I pulled up my T-shirt. I had no idea what I was doing, and I didn’t know if it was going to work, but the child took my nipple into his mouth as soon as I brought him to my breast. There was a wet sound, loud in the facility silence, as he began to suck contentedly, desperately.</p><p>A minute passed, long enough for me to feel things I didn’t want to feel. The sight of this strange baby breastfeeding was making my eyes prick in the strangest way. I cleared my throat, fighting the sensation, but it was no use. I felt hopeless and guilty, very guilty. The scary picture in my head was rapidly changing into something beautiful as a single tear streaked down my face. I was not carrying a <em>thing</em> or a heartless monster. She was a baby. <em>My baby</em>. Made in a test tube, but mine all the same.  </p><p>Everything was different when I took my eyes off the little boy and lifted my face. The sleeping babies inside the cribs were no longer scary, but fascinating. Two of them were awfully young, about four or five months old. All the cribs had labels on them. I turned my head to the empty crib, narrowing my eyes as I held the boy closer.</p><p><em>“X23-11” </em>I muttered to myself, reading the label, before noticing that someone had written the word <em>Rictor </em>underneath it.</p><p>I looked down at the baby in my arms, he was dozing now, his little lips still around my nipple. <em>Rictor</em>…his name was Rictor. Someone had given him a real name. Careful not to wake him, I stood up and put him back in the crib.</p><p>I went to see the youngest babies, experiencing a chaos of emotions. <em>X23-21 </em>and <em>X23-22. </em>No, no. REBECCA and TAMARA.</p><p>I did the maths. These were undoubtedly my friends’ babies. They even looked like them. Baby Tamara was dark-skinned and small, whereas baby Rebecca was blonde and big. The heaviness in my heart returned. I was carrying baby X23-23. This is where my tiny and helpless newborn would be in a few weeks. Alone and scared and hungry in a cold crib with a label.</p><p>I was stunned and frightened by the alarming images that filled my mind. They were ripping small children from their mothers’ arms to experiment on them. <em>No, not mine</em>. No one in this rotten hell was going to touch my child.</p><p>
  <em>Pain. Anguish. Determination.</em>
</p><p>I darted out and flew down the corridor, heading towards the stairs. All the doors and walls around me looked the same, but I couldn’t allow myself to take a wrong turn. Not now.</p><p>The baby was restless, kicking me a bit too hard every time I made a sudden movement. <em>“</em>Hold on, hold on<em>, aguanta bebé.” </em>I was muttering as I struggled to reach the next floor.</p><p>The time came when at last the stairs ended, and I was finally at what seemed like the lobby of any fancy hospital. It was shiny, with creamy walls and leather couches. The soft moonlight was dancing in the vast space, flowing in through a solid glass door. I had to reach it and get to the adjacent street on the other side, once there, I could easily ask for help. Each step made me tremble. I was concentrating solely on my goal, refusing to let them have <em>her</em>.</p><p>“You! Stop right there!”</p><p>Alarms went off. My senses screamed in warning as I ran through the door and into the cold night. It felt good to see the world again, but I wasn’t free, not yet. There was a lawn before me, appalling and large, surrounded by a fence. I was out of breath, panting and sweating, aware that I was being chased.</p><p>“No, you won’t!” a man snarled behind me, grabbing me by the arm. But as he did his foot slipped on something hidden in the grass. He fell forward, taking me with him and landing on top of me.</p><p>For a moment I was too startled to do anything. All I was aware of was a sharp pain in my belly. I quickly brought both my hands up to his shoulders and tried to lift his weight off me.</p><p>“Get off! Don’t press on me! Please don’t press on me! You’ll kill my baby!” As I spoke I felt a wet sensation between my legs.</p><p>“She’s bleeding!” I heard him yell as he stumbled to his feet.</p><p>More hands were on me, lifting me off the ground and taking me back into the building. The world around me became hazy, and somehow, I was now lying on a gurney. I folded my hands around my bloated belly, the baby wasn’t moving anymore. I opened my mouth to tell them, but my voice was instantly muffled by the oxygen mask they were putting on my face. I heard doctors shouting orders as we entered a room that looked like an operation theatre. Someone pushed a needle into my arm. A nurse cut my clothes off, and one of the doctors poured a cold gel on my stomach before pressing an instrument on it. <em>An ultrasound.</em></p><p>I heard Dr. Macey’s voice in the hallway. He sounded furious.</p><p>“How could she escape! How did a mere teenager manage to make her way up ten stories, UNDETECTED!!” He shouted as he stormed into the room, effectively intimidating the bewildered guards and medical staff.</p><p>“We have no idea how she knew--”</p><p>“SHUT UP!! Pierce’s people receive salaries 30 times that of similar positions in other companies. How could she dodge them! <em>HOW!</em>”</p><p>The vulture-like man paused, breathing heavily, before turning to the doctor next to me, suddenly remembering his priorities. “Is it alive?” he asked anxiously. </p><p>I held my breath, thinking of all the physical strain I’d put on my body in the last hour. They had said she was fragile, and that was partly my fault. If I had killed her, I would kill myself.</p><p>“Yes, Dr.” The younger doctor answered, finally finding a heartbeat. “Its heart rate is a little abnormal, but it will live. Listen.”</p><p>Relief washed through me.<em> She was still here</em>.</p><p>I closed my eyes. It was too much. I was no longer comfortable with not knowing her. I hadn’t allowed myself to see her on the screen the other times, not even a quick glimpse, afraid that she would get under my skin. It was time I let her be a living presence, let her spirit inhabit the tiny body inside me and infuse it with her own particular essence. It was time I faced reality.</p><p>Deafened by the steady and loud heartbeat coming from the ultrasound machine, I slowly turned my head to the screen. <em>God</em>. It was like having a camera inside me. This wasn’t the blurry black and white image I was expecting. There was a small face, the face of a baby, sort of floating there. Two round cheeks and the tiniest nose I’d ever seen. Her eyes were closed, but she was awake, frowning and moving her mouth as though she was uncomfortable.</p><p><em>“Sorry, baby”</em> I muttered, blinking back some tears. I was looking at my own child.</p><p>While Dr. Macey was shouting something about the company investing millions of dollars in this baby, a transformation was taking place in me. I was entranced by the miracle on the screen. How extraordinary that I could think of destroying her simply because she was different. The baby, my baby, was suddenly human. For the first time I contemplated the idea of a life that I must defend with my own. She was not an abstraction, she was on that screen now, 28 weeks, a complete self, begging me to protect her. But beneath the unexpected excitement was something else, some strange feeling I had never experienced before. I suddenly saw myself leaving childhood behind and changing into a woman. I was no longer an innocent teenager.</p><p>I was a mother.</p><p>+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++</p><p>Far from being upset, Dr. Rice had been pleased by my “display of intelligence and skill”, much to the dismay of Dr. Macey. But his unexpected and somewhat disturbing reaction to my failed escape attempt didn’t make the following weeks any easier for me.</p><p>The waiting was driving me insane. I was at risk of premature birth and my baby’s heart rate had to be checked every day. The stress of the incident had put her life in jeopardy, and I was struggling to keep the guilt within me at bay. Trying to escape was not an option at this point.</p><p>I had to wait. I had to make myself stronger and trust that she was getting stronger too. They were surely going to get rid of me after giving birth, but she was going to live. She was going to break free from this place one day. Nurse Mónica told me once that the baby was kicking me so hard and so often because she was distressed. But I knew it was because this little girl was strong, and wild, and determined. There was fire in her. She wasn’t meant to be held captive in a cell, and she knew it.</p><p>“Mónica” I murmured, turning to the nurse. She was currently sitting in a chair at the far end of the room, reading a novel.</p><p><em>“¿Qué pasó?” </em>she asked absently.</p><p>“I know I’m going to die” I replied in Spanish, carefully holding my emotions. Mónica perked up a bit then, putting down the book. She’d been here for the last couple of weeks, trying to be present, trying to look after me.</p><p>“No, that’s not—”</p><p>“You don’t have to sugarcoat the truth or tell me that everything will be alright. I know I am going to die. It is what it is.” I cut her off, turning my gaze to the ceiling. Certain things needed to be discussed. This was not the time to keep dark secrets.</p><p>There was a bit of silence, and I knew she was looking at me intently now.</p><p>“It’s not…I don’t…” I struggled to find the words, aware that I was becoming restless. “Motherhood was a distant dream for me, and now Laura…all this”</p><p>Mónica frowned. “Who?”</p><p>I took a deep breath. I was feeling the familiar soreness in my legs and back.</p><p>“That’s her name” I murmured, reflexively placing a hand on my belly, my lips curving up a little at the edges.</p><p>“It’s a beautiful name.” The nurse said in a small voice, coming around to sit beside me on the bed.</p><p>“My dad wanted to name me Laura because it means <em>strength</em>. But my grandmother and aunt died in a car accident mere days before I was born, so my parents decided to name me after them instead: <em>Sara </em>after my grandma and<em> Paulina </em>after my aunt. I’m an only child so they never got the chance to use the other name.”</p><p>I knew I was stalling, changing the subject. Speaking about my unborn child’s future was proving to be harder than I had predicted. I was living through the very conversation that preoccupied me constantly. I was beginning to face the difficult truth that my baby would never be a living presence at my side, at least not for long, that I would never get to know her intimately. I had been feeling angry, now I needed to feel purged.</p><p>“I was looking at her tiny face on the screen two days ago. Her eyes were open, she was sucking on her thumb, a complete human being” I closed my eyes, before the painful words hit the air. “I panicked and realized that I don’t have much time left. I discovered that since Laura exists, I’m afraid of death.”</p><p>I worked my eyes open. Mónica was rigid. I’d seen her sad, I’d seen her feeling guilty, I’d seen her mentally exhausted. But this, the expression on her face was beyond agony.</p><p>“You don’t want to leave her” she whispered.</p><p>I shook my head, stunned. In the deep and unbearable expansiveness of my grief I undertook to save every single person trapped --physically or mentally-- inside this hell called Transigen, the girls, the babies, the nurses, even some of the doctors, but I would start with Laura; and while I could never save myself, I would find a way to keep her safe, and never close my mind to the possibility of her finding a family.</p><p>I glanced up at Mónica then, wrapping my trembling hands tight around her own.</p><p>“Please, please…promise me that you’ll call her by her name, don’t let my little girl think that she is a number…and…” I tried to summon the right words as a series of disturbing images flooded my head ”…promise me that you will hold her and kiss her, that you won’t leave her crying in one of those cold cribs…”</p><p>“How do you...?”</p><p>“I doesn’t matter how I know…just…just promise me that you will tell my daughter how much I love her. Please, please…”</p><p>I found myself enveloped in Monica’s powerful yet gentle arms. This was the first time I was allowing myself to cry and seek comfort since they had implanted an embryo in my womb. This shouldn’t have happened; I had a bright future ahead of me. I had loving parents, good friends, good education, even some admirers. I’d just begun to know what it was like to fall in love when these people had forced me to be a mother. It wasn’t fair. Now I had this little person whose life and future depended entirely on me, and I was going to fail her.</p><p>“I promise. I swear to God that I’ll do everything in my hands to help… <em>Laura</em>.” Mónica said, stroking my hair as she sobbed along with me, her voice determined and strong.</p><p>I pulled away and looked up at her, taking in the sight. Her face matched her voice, this wasn’t the timid nurse I’d been talking to for months.</p><p>“Thank you.” I whimpered, as she joined me in my sorrow. Her words were giving me a little peace. Although nobody could ever replace my love, at least my baby would have a kind nurse to look after her.</p><p>I intended to lie down on the bed again and rest a little, but something in me hesitated as I straightened my back and wiped the tears away.</p><p>“I was wondering if…if you could be there when…just to make sure…” I stuttered, unsure if I was being too needy.</p><p>“Of course, <em>niña</em>. I’ll be by your side when you go into labor.” Mónica said softly, motioning for me to lie down. “Now try to get some sleep.”</p><p>I scooped over and asked her to sleep beside me so she didn't have to doze in a hard chair the whole night. It was like having my mom back for a little while. I missed her so much, so much. Had I been able to escape from Transigen in time, she would have taught me how to take care of Laura, how to change her diaper and bathe her and feed her; how to dress her and keep her warm at night.</p><p>The fatigued nurse fell asleep in minutes, but I couldn’t. Laura was stretching and kicking again. It was the most spectacular feeling I’d ever experienced, even if she was getting more aggressive. We played this game where she kicked and I pushed back a bit.</p><p><em>'Ouch. No tan fuerte, mi amor.’</em> I said softly when she jabbed my bladder a bit too hard.</p><p>Every time she moved I immediately touched my stomach, marveling at the life inside of me and feeling more protective of the little baby I was in charge of growing. The connection between me and Laura was getting stronger. She was teaching me infinite amounts. She was teaching me to be selfless. She was teaching me that it was possible to have a piece of my heart outside of my body.</p><p>My tender breasts and aching back didn’t bother me anymore. This kind of discomfort meant that she was still happy and safe in her little cocoon. I ate the gooey oatmeal without complaining, I even asked for more because she needed to gain weight. I didn’t know how much time I would have with her after giving birth, but I was hoping they would let me breastfeed her for a few weeks. I was afraid they might put all sorts of chemicals in her baby formula to induce her mutation.</p><p>I was exhausted, but this hyperactive baby of mine wouldn’t stop moving. I knew what she wanted. She never went to sleep at night unless I hummed or talked to her. My voice seemed to have a calming effect on her.</p><p>“Alright” I sighed, resigned. <em>“¿Qué quieres que te cuente, uh?”</em></p><p>I told her about my friends and how they were going to spoil her; about her grandpa and all the bad jokes he was going to tell her, about her grandma and the delicious chocolate cookies she was going to make for her; about the big room full of toys and books and pretty clothes she was going to have, about all the beaches in the Riviera Maya we were going to visit on the holidays, and all the parks where she was going to run with her puppy every Saturday. Even if my future wasn’t bright, telling her these things reminded me that Laura had a whole life ahead of her.</p><p><em>‘Mami es muy aburrida ¿verdad princesa?’</em> I whispered softly when she finally stopped punching and kicking. My boring monologue had lulled her to sleep. It was a cold night, so I scooted closer to Mónica and closed my eyes.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>**"Stay", Kelly Rida.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. BIG BIRD IN A SMALL CAGE</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <em>**“I had a one-way ticket to a place where all the demons go</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Where the wind don't change</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>And nothing in the ground can ever grow</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>No hope, just lies</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>And you're taught to cry into your pillow</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>But I survived”</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Dear Laura</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hello, I am your mother. You are a tiny thing, but I can feel you kicking every day. Some days you kick more than others. When you are quiet, I worry there is something wrong. I hope you are sleeping soundly now.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I pray that you never let this world dull your bright personality. I pray that the world is less cruel to you than it can be. Because it will be cruel. I pray that you are courageous and kind and generous and patient. I already see so much of this in you, and it makes me so proud to call you mine.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>For all I know, I won't see you grow up. But I’ll always be around, even if you can’t see me. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>If you lack courage, ask for it. I will give it to you. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>If you feel lonely, talk to me. I will always be listening.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Love you already, </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Mamá</em>
</p><p>+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++</p><p>
  <strong>August, 2018</strong>
</p><p><strong>Transigen Facility, </strong> <strong>Mexico City</strong></p><p>
  <strong>5:09am</strong>
</p><p>Aching, heaviness, cramps.</p><p>Laura decided that she didn’t want to be trapped inside me anymore. She had gotten too big and too strong. Somehow, I was feeling her desperation to get out, to finally meet the owner of the voice that talked to her every night. I was desperate to meet her too, this little person that came from life itself. I wanted to cradle her in my arms, to feel her warm, tender skin on mine; I wanted to nuzzle her velvety head and kiss her tiny nose. I wanted to hear her cry and watch her breathe.</p><p>I was sweating and gasping for air beneath the blinding lights of the delivery room. They hadn't given me any pain killers and it felt like the worst menstrual cramp I’d ever had. They’d broken my waters 15 minutes ago and now I was having contractions every minute. </p><p><em>“Ya casi, mi bebé, ya casi.” </em>I was murmuring to Laura between gasps. The pressure on my pelvic muscles and the pain on my lower back were unbearable, but it was nothing compared to the anguish I was feeling.</p><p>“I need to push!” I shouted, my voice threaded with tension, but the medical staff ignored me. Mónica, who had kept her promise to be in the room, was whispering words of encouragement, muttering something about trust. “I need to push!” I insisted, feeling the head coming out of me. It appeared that Laura would be born earlier than expected.</p><p>The doctor came over and lifted back the sheet, before taking a casual glance between my legs.</p><p>“I don’t see any sign of its head” he said, and turned around. </p><p>I was suffocating, the room was small and poorly lit. I wasn’t even lying on a bed, it was more like a dental chair, cold and hard and uncomfortable. Doctors were walking in and out of the room, but none of them was paying attention to me. I was devastated and furious. I knew what I was feeling but they were simply refusing to examine me. Sensing that there was something wrong, I reached down and felt my baby’s waxy head crowning.</p><p>“I can feel her! Help! Help!” I managed to shout. Mónica was standing nervously next to me, clasping her hands and glancing around, debating whether or not to break the rules. “Help us, please. Tell me what you can see.” I mumbled, looking up at her. She bit her lip, looking down at me, then back to the doctors, but the words were so fervent that, risking her job, she reached under me to get the sheet clear and crouched down between my legs.</p><p>There was a gasp of shock.</p><p>"The head is born! Doctor, the head is born!" she yelled, putting out her hand, moving her fingers down, below my taut lips, to find the hidden little shoulder. It was then that finally –<em>finally</em>—the doctor came rushing over, practically shoving her aside.</p><p>"Go get Dr. Macey!" he ordered Mónica. </p><p>"<em>N-No--</em>" I attempted, reaching out for her, before a dull ache in my lower abdomen forced me to push. My lips shivered as strangled groans coming from my chest flodded the small space. <em>Pain. Pressure</em>. <em>Wetness</em>. When the sensation was gone, I let my head fall back against the pillow, taking deep breaths. </p><p>"She here yet?" I heard, and turned my head to see <em>him</em> standing there, arms crossed, wearing his dirty leather jacket and jeans.</p><p>“<em>Get</em>... <em>the fuck</em>... <em>out</em>” I growled between gasps.</p><p>“Sorry, no, I have to see this.” Donald Pierce said through a smirk. I felt terribly uncomfortable, he had no right to stand behind the doctor and witness this intimate moment. We were not a show.</p><p>Dr. Macey darted into the room, putting a surgical mask on. A half second later, Mónica was by my side once again. She wasn’t allowed to hold my hand or anything like that, but her presence was giving me the courage I needed to ignore these bastards and bring Laura into the world.</p><p>“Push, push. We've got to get it out!” the doctor was saying, and I obeyed, but it seemed that no amount of pushing could make her budge. For the last three days of my pregnancy I had been in agony all the time, and though I had put my foot down and told them that something was not right, they had wanted to keep her in my belly for as long as possible.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” I heard Dr. Macey ask. </p><p>“It turned to the left and got stuck in the birth canal” The doctor leading the delivery replied. </p><p>“Perform a cesarean section!” Macey ordered, but the doctor shook his head.</p><p>“It’s too late for that”</p><p>I fought to inhale. I was not ready. I was too tired. </p><p><em>“Vamos, niña” </em>Mónica whispered <em>"Aquí estoy. I'm here"</em></p><p>But I was alone. And <em>our</em> time was running out.</p><p>Willing dark thoughts away, I reached for Mónica’s forearm and held it with both hands in a fierce grip as I pushed.</p><p>“One more push, come on, take a deep breath and do it again” The doctor instructed. I could feel Dr. Macey by my side watching his money go down the drain, even Donald Pierce had gone stiff. I hated them. "Come on, push! Agai--" </p><p>The doctor’s words were cut off by a long shout. My teeth were bared, the muscles of my neck stretching to a breaking point. I gasped for air a couple of times and then pushed again, a loud scream leaving my throat. I felt like fainting, but I forced myself to stay present. I was not going to abandon her.</p><p>“PUSH! We've got to get this baby out!” The doctor yelled, and then followed several attempts of him pulling at my daughter, which caused me distress, which caused me pain. </p><p>I drew breath and shouted again, this time wildly, and even when my lungs ran out of air I kept shouting. It had to go on. I trembled with effort, the contraction lifting me off my back. There was a final scream. A final shudder. A final click.</p><p>The despair was gone.</p><p>I lifted my head, stretching it as much as I could. There was a shock, a slowing down. I was entering a dream time, my chaotic thoughts were abruptly resolving into simple, bright shapes, as my eyes registered the baby in the doctor's hands. This tiny pretty thing with jet black hair was a presence, a revelation. Everything I had was coming from her.</p><p>Still dazed from the birth, I waited for that single lucid cry. </p><p>The seconds stretched on. </p><p>It never came. </p><p>“Why isn’t she crying?” I heard myself mumble, my own voice bringing me back to reality as I noticed something unusual. The cord, thick and slippery, went from her belly, up to her neck, fully around her neck, up through her legs and around her soft middle. The doctors were frantically trying to unwind her.</p><p>--<em>Too tangled!... Cut off her oxygen supply… It must have happened when she dropped to be born— </em></p><p>Laura wasn’t moving. She was floppy as a rag doll, an unhealthy pale bluish grey in color, and the angry red indents on her nose and skull were quickly turning into deep purple bruises.</p><p>The room went into absolute chaos. </p><p>“Why isn’t she crying! Why isn’t she crying!” I shouted in raw anguish, but no one answered. </p><p>I heard an alarm wailing in the corridor. Doctors and nurses began streaming through the door, craning to see the patient --my motionless, minutes-old daughter. Before long, there was a crowd around the baby. I heard them counting as they compressed her small and delicate chest repeatedly. I watched them put thick tubes in her mouth to drain the liquid from her lungs, and then place a toy-sized oxygen mask on her face. They fell silent as their movements became quicker. </p><p>Dr. Macey looked nauseated. He tried to leave, but when I caught his gaze he kind of stopped, kind of turned back on himself and sort of continued doing what he was doing.</p><p>“The heart isn’t working.” The doctor in charge said as he compressed Laura’s chest a bit too hard. “Take her to the unit. Epinephrine through IV. As many doses as needed. NOW!” </p><p>Instantly, a young doctor scooped up my floppy baby and rushed out of the room. Some of the others followed hurriedly, including Donald Pierce and Macey.</p><p>“No! No! <em>¡No se la lleven!</em> No!” I yelled, trying to sit up, but Mónica pulled me down.</p><p><em>“Está bien, está bien. </em>She’ll be fine<em>” </em>she was whispering softly.</p><p>I took the nurse's hand, holding it tight, trying to get a grip on myself. Laura needed me. She was going to pull through. She was not a weak baby. She was not made of sugar, spice, and everything nice. Laura was made of Aztec warriors, Spanish conquerors, <em>and Wolverines</em>. She was wild and strong and determined. She was going to live.</p><p>It was cold, the wetness was cold. My hair was damp and it clung to my neck and forehead. The wet and blood-stained sheet was still gathered up to my waist. I looked at the nurse, past her, I knew my eyes were bright, wide with purpose. And just as I was finally getting a hold of my breath, just as I was finally back in control, Donald Pierce walked through the door and began to pace around.</p><p>“Mónica, take her to her room. She’s done here.” he ordered the nurse, and I straightened up. </p><p>“Why isn’t she crying! Why isn’t my baby crying!”</p><p>He stopped. I scanned his face for panic or relief and saw nothing, only blankness. </p><p>“Because it’s dead.” he simply said, and then turned abruptly and marched out of the room.</p><p>My heart clenched and stopped. There was no movement, no pulse, no breathing. I was not alive. I heard screams, hysterical screams. They were piercing my ears and wiping my voice away. It wasn’t until I felt Mónica’s shaky hand on my forehead that I realized that all that screaming was coming from me.</p><p>“She’s not dead! She’s not dead!” I wailed. “He’s lying…. He’s lying…”. I turned my gaze to Mónica, looking into her eyes for reassurance, but the woman just looked compassionately at my distraught face.</p><p>“I’m sorry” she said softly through watery eyes, words pained as she put a hand over her mouth.</p><p>I wagged my head from side to side as despair swept me away. “No! No! <em>¡Mi bebé! ¡Laura!</em> Please, give me my baby! Let me see her! I am her mother! <em>¡Yo soy su mamá! ¡Yo soy su mamá! </em></p><p>The nurse pulled me into her arms. I closed my eyes, trying to recall her image, trying to prove myself that they were wrong. I did not want to believe that her little body was pale and lifeless. With a choking gasp fresh tears rushed from my eyes. My baby girl was gone. She was gone, along with all my hopes, dreams, and expectations for her. There weren’t any words in the English of Spanish language that could describe what I was feeling. My life had begun the day Laura had been conceived and it had ended the second she had died.</p><p>+++++++++++++++++++++</p><p>I was on the floor breathing heavily, my body at an awkward angle, my heart murmuring and beating irregularly. I didn’t stir, afraid that movement would destroy the towering calm that I felt around me. The world was harsh and cruel, but for now, I was immune.</p><p>The room was drawing the heat from me greedily, making me shiver, even as I sweated. A crummy room. There was no bed, the floors were filthy, and the light was very dim. I could smell something metallic in the air, something rotten. The pain was worse here, in the cold, and while I always knew I was disposable to them, the way I was being treated made me want to die. The seconds turned into minutes, and the minutes into hours.</p><p>They had not let me see her, had not let me hold her or kiss her goodbye. I just couldn’t accept that her life had ended when it had barely begun.</p><p>Breaking my own rule, I placed a hand on my belly hesitantly as a tremendous sense of emptiness overcame me. It was still swollen, but she wasn’t there anymore. I replayed my actions prior to her death and wondered what I may have done differently; played out scenarios in which my child could have been saved. I felt this urge to blame someone. I was angry with the doctors, with the universe, with God, and especially, with myself. I had not been able to protect her from harm.</p><p>Tears welled up in my eyes. I didn’t know what they were going to do with her body. <em>Were they going to bury her? Burn her? Hide her? </em>I just hoped we would be reunited soon. They had put me in this room to die. This was a death room. My parents would never find me, they would never have a place to mourn the death of their daughter, they would always live with the uncertainty of not knowing what had happened to me.</p><p>Footsteps, voices, the jingle of keys. I jumped to my feet, uselessly looking for a place to hide. The metallic smell was emanating from the walls, they reeked of pee and blood and,<em> God, </em>there were nail marks on them. The iron door opened. It was a guard I’d never seen before with three men standing a few paces behind him. The oldest was fat and short, the other two sturdy and tall. They were between the ages of 28 and 35.</p><p>A wave of nausea overtook me as my eyes lingered on their bulky forms. They had their life story stamped upon their faces; their eyes were vacant, their skin was rough and full of scars, and they carried themselves with an air of cruelty. The youngest took a step forward and looked at me lustfully.</p><p>I shuddered. </p><p>In one second he was grabbing me by the shoulders and pushing me against the furthest wall as the others closed the door, leaving the cell in semidarkness once again. The shock wiped away my voice. I couldn’t move. I felt cold and lifeless as a pair of heavy hands slowly sneaked up my torso.</p><p>Some primitive defense mechanism made my mind shut down completely. I escaped to my house, I concentrated on the colorful streets of my neighborhood, the soft sounds of the birds, the rays of sun trying to reach me through the trees. I wanted to resist and fight back but fear had left me physically frozen. I was separate from my body although I could feel it shaking. This was a full-body shaking, more like a quake than a shiver. I’d never been with a man before, but I knew what was going on. I was disgusted at how my body was responding to fear... <em>and</em> <em>sex</em>. The word ‘no’ didn’t seem to count; neither them, nor my body, were listening to me.</p><p>The first time I regained consciousness, I became immediately aware I was lying on my back on the floor. The man on my right was trying to force me to touch him. The next time I came into consciousness, the oldest was cradling me in his arms, doing something I can't remember. I pleaded with him at some point, told him I felt nauseated. I felt like a piece of trash, a piece of trash someone had forgotten in a dark cell.</p><p> </p><p>Something was throwing a red light on my closed eyes. It felt hot, a burning sensation. The pain was still there, sharp and persistent, even worse than before. I was floating, the floor beneath me had disappeared. My vision went in and out of focus as I tried to open my eyes. A face, a strange and unpleasant face three inches above mine, and beyond it… <em>the sky. </em></p><p>The rocking movements of the man’s walk were steadily bringing me back to myself. A dark truth settled within me: I was leaving Transigen without Laura.</p><p>With a penetrating squeaking sound, like that of a fingernail being run across a blackboard, a door was pulled open. I felt something cold under my back and heard a thud, then I heard voices and an engine roar to life.</p><p>Still in my semi-conscious state, I opened my eyes and looked down to my body. I wasn’t naked anymore. They had dressed me in the white long-sleeved shirt and grey pants I’d been wearing for the last months. I started to move my toes and fingers, then my feet, legs and arms. My muscles were responding, nothing was broken, I could breathe. <em>I was alive.</em></p><p>Stifling a moan, I propped myself on my arms and took a look around. I was in the back of a kind of laundry van. The exact same vehicle they’d shoved me into almost a year ago. Around me, the noise was increasing. The men’s voices were getting louder and clearer.</p><p><em>“… ya chingamos, hermano, la podemos vender como virgen, no se van a dar cuenta. Está guapa, nos van a dar un buen varo por ella.” </em>One of them said, laughing a little at their success.</p><p><em>“Nos va a levantar el business. Esta va para los clientes VIP.” </em>His companion responded, making noises of triumph.</p><p>Human traffickers.</p><p>This is what happened to us after giving birth. They didn’t kill us straight away, they handed us over to these people. Transigen was paying professional gangs to do the dirty job. They were snatching us, lending us to the company, and then claiming us back.</p><p>No… there was much more to it. There had to be. History shows that the dark businesses between Mexican and American criminals are never small or simple. And this was a multimillion-dollar company.</p><p><em>‘Donald has proven to be an exceptional addition to our team, by the way. He’s a quick study’ </em>Dr. Rice had said.</p><p>This was not just any gang, this was a powerful organized crime network. They were training Pierce and his people, teaching them some tricks, guiding them. <em>A close team. </em>We were hopeless, the captive girls and the children. Transigen was untouchable, and not even the police could help. This network was protecting the company, opening the path for it, getting the authorities out of the way, helping it operate under the government’s nose.</p><p>It all made sense. That’s why Transigen's headquarters were in Mexico.</p><p>My fate was going to be even worse than death. Nobody works for free, and I was these two men’s paycheck. They’d rapped me, and now they were planning to sell me. I had to get out of here, jump out of the van. I might get run over by a car, but even that would be a better ending than getting raped day and night by a bunch of filthy old men at a sex-slave bar in Tijuana or New York.</p><p>I crawled to the door in front of me slowly and peeked through a slit. From my position I could make out a bunch of concrete houses stacked on top of each other next to an arid and lonely road. No tall buildings, no fancy shops, no schools or restaurants. We were in the hardscrabble outskirts of Mexico City, the ragged urban hell Hollywood and CNN loved so much to show in movies and tv news.</p><p>I wrapped my fingers around the handle and stayed like that for a moment, staring at it, gathering the courage to pull it down. Suddenly, the van was flooded with a loud noise. I instinctively froze to listen. It was a walkie talkie statically ringing out, but I couldn't make out the words.</p><p>I waited.</p><p>The man in the passenger seat yelled, <em>“¡Puta madre!”</em> as he slammed his hand on something. <em>“¡Una pinche enfermera llamó a la policía! </em><em>Puede que los traigamos atrás. ¡Los putos no me habían dicho que traemos a la niña rica esa que están buscando! Vámonos para el otro lado, güey. Nos vamos a deshacer de ella.” </em>He was furious.</p><p>
  <em>‘A fucking nurse called the police! They might be following us. Those fuckers didn’t tell me she’s that rich girl everybody’s looking for! Take an alternate route, man. We’re getting rid of her.’</em>
</p><p>I didn’t know what he meant by ‘everybody’ but I knew exactly what he meant by ‘getting rid of her’. My strength came back to me. I didn’t want to die anymore. I wanted to go back to my family. They hadn’t given up the search and I was not going to give up either. There was hate and strength and heat coursing through my body. I was going to fight for my life until the end, just like my little Laura had done.</p><p>The van made a sudden, sharp, unexpected turn and then came to a halt. I heard the driver and his companion swearing and shouting at each other as they tried to figure out the best route. They were totally absorbed in their argument, paying no attention to me at all. I looked through the slit again, they’d hidden the van in an alleyway. This was my chance. I grabbed the door handle and waited for a truck to pass us by so it would muffle the sound. Instead of a truck, God sent me some noisy teenagers in a car listening to loud music. My captors wouldn’t be quick enough to stop me, distracted as they were. Glancing over my shoulder one last time, I deftly pulled down the handle and stumbled out of the vehicle.</p><p>I ran ahead. But before going into the nearest street, I looked back briefly. I wasn’t being followed.</p><p>I ran and ran along the narrow streets and alleyways of this God-forsaken neighborhood. I didn’t know where I was or what to do. My father had never allowed me to come this way, he’d always kept me in the bubble of the lush neighborhoods in Mexico City and had filled my head with all kinds of prejudices against the people who live in places like this. Thanks to that, I wasn’t sure if I should stop and ask for help or just keep running.</p><p>My P.E. teachers had always been amazed by my stamina and endurance, there was no doubt that I was a natural athlete, but the lack of exercise and the fact that I’d just given birth a few hours back forced me to stop for a rest.</p><p>I found myself standing next to a busy food market that reeked of raw meat and herbs. I wanted to ask someone where I was, but I was also afraid to let them see that I was lost and alone. Instead, I leaned on a wall, breathing heavily, picking up on the small, everyday sounds around me. Despite being a plain-looking girl in ordinary clothes, it was obvious that I was not a local, and some people were glancing in my direction, staring me down. A woman and her daughter even frowned and started to whisper to each other, discretely pointing to me.</p><p>I swallowed hard and began to walk slowly in the direction of the market, it was difficult to take in the tumbling chaos of so many people and the way they brushed past me and laughed and talked to each other. Fear was lightening my step, making my breathing shallow as I approached the entrance. A big sign above my head greeted me. </p><p>MERCADO MUNICIPAL DE SAN CRISTOBAL ECATEPEC.</p><p>Ecatepec. <em>Mierda</em>. This city had one of the highest femicide rates in the country. I looked up, the sun was beginning to set. I had to find a safe place to hide before it got dark. Mexico City wasn’t far from here.</p><p>Panicking, I ran through congested streets for another 15 or 20 minutes, cars passing close by, stray dogs moving out of my way. My legs were giving in, I was out of breath, my belly was hurting. I slowed, but did not stop. The houses and streets ahead were endless. I realized I was not going to make it unless I asked for help.</p><p>I staggered a bit into an alleyway and stopped for the briefest of seconds. At a distance of thirty feet was a group of little girls with a long jumprope, which was turning to a rhythmic chant above the heads of three girls who tried to lift their feet as little as possible to clear the rope as it cut down beneath them.</p><p>
  <em>'Al pasar la barca</em>
  <br/>
  <em>me dijo el barquero</em>
  <br/>
  <em>las niñas bonitas</em>
  <br/>
  <em>no pagan dinero...'</em>
</p><p>And beyond this noisy group was a solitary figure, an eleven or twelve-year-old boy kicking a ball against the walls. My eyes widened. </p><p>“Help me, I need help…” I said in Spanish, practically sobbing. The girls stopped turning the jumprope, the boy stopped kicking the ball. There was silence. Shots of pain ran through my legs and stomach as their bewildered eyes took in the sight before them.</p><p>“Take me to your mom…please.” I begged, intent on the boy.</p><p>He hesitated for a few seconds, looking briefly to the girls, and then meekly nodded and closed the space between us, taking my hand in his.</p><p>Far from looking scared of the crazy girl that was begging him for help like one of his little sisters would, he looked deeply concerned. A boy of twelve who is raised in a red zone is always wise beyond his years. They’ve been forced to grow up faster than the rest, they have seen things no child should ever see; they’re alert, agile, and their surviving skills are impressive. So despite being much taller than him and four or five years his senior, I felt as protected as if I was holding a man’s hand.</p><p>“¡Mamaaaaaaaá!” he shouted as I let him pull me along narrow streets and alleyways. His grip was firm and reassuring. At last we stumbled through a sheet metal door and into a wide central patio where a woman was hanging clothes. We were in a <em>vecindad, </em>a residence where the urban poor resided. </p><p><em>“¡Mamaaaaaaaaá!”</em> The boy yelled again, panting, but still refusing to let go of me. </p><p>The woman turned around and I found myself looking into honest brown eyes, sad and haunted by the unspeakable things they had obviously seen. Her clothes were humble and the skin on her hands was rough and dark. But she was dignified, her head was held high. A few silent tears ran down my cheeks as I stared at the boy's mother. Her melancholic expression and her gentle, yet sure movements reminded me of Mónica and the other nurses. I knew it then. I was finally safe.</p><p>“Please” I sobbed. “Please…help me”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>**"Alive", Sia.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. THE LIFE WE WANTED</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>**<em>“Every instant survived along the way</em></strong>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>And every second of uncertainty </strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Every moment of not knowing</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Are the very key to that tissue </strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>That I carry under my skin.</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong> This is how I protect you</strong> </em>
</p><p><em> <strong>You’re still here within me</strong> </em> <em> <strong>”</strong> </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>How many girls had they snatched? 10? 21? 35? A city, a community which lost 35 girls means 35 empty beds in 35 rooms in 35 homes. I count them one by one in my mind. 35 voids. What’s left after the death of 35 girls? What happens to a society trained to forget? What happens to us if we renounce our memory? What do we become?</em>
</p><p>My savior’s name was Alma. She almost fainted when I told her who I was.</p><p>It turned out that the whole country had been searching for me, initially at least. During the first months, the media had kept thousands of families following the story as if it was a soup opera or a reality show<em>. </em>Newspapers and magazines made millions by spreading fake news to make it more interesting and profitable, which ultimately resulted in my parents being placed under a restriction order due to “falsehoods and inconsistencies in their statements”. When reporters couldn’t squeeze anything else out of the tragedy and people started to get bored, they went back to covering stories about rescued dogs and protests.</p><p>As desperate as I was to call my parents and go home, I had to beg Alma to let me hide in her house for a few days. If the police found out that I was alive, I would be on the news again, and Transigen and their human traffickers would kill me and my family. I had to wait and make them believe that I'd never made it back home.</p><p>But there was another reason why I could not let my parents see me: I still looked pregnant and had injuries all over my body associated with sexual assault. My mom and dad had gone through a lot already and I didn’t want to add to their pain. I could never tell them anything about Transigen or their stillborn granddaughter. I had to protect them physically and mentally alike. </p><p>Alma and her son, Brian, got me all the care I needed. I wasn’t the first sexually assaulted girl the woman had helped, that sort of thing happened all the time where she lived. I told her most of my story, except the name of the laboratory and where it was.</p><p><em>‘I never knew’ </em>I had replied when she asked.</p><p>In response to my words, which she clearly had not believed, Alma slipped a piece of paper in my hand: a phone number in case I needed forged identity documents.</p><p>“You might need it. Come on, take it.” she'd muttered when I tried to give it back.</p><p>Surprisingly enough, the weeks I spent with Alma were life changing. My prejudices went out the window and I learned to be strong like her. She never felt sorry for herself or waited for anyone to come and rescue her, but at the same time she knew when she needed help and wasn’t afraid to ask for it. Instead of wishing for what she couldn’t have, she loved what she already had. She knew when it was time to be sad, but also when it was time to get up and try again.</p><p><em>‘Self-pity is not attractive’</em> was her reply when I told her I had turned seventeen inside the facility.</p><p>The future was hers. Alma and her son would always be the survivors in any story. Nothing could get them down. All countries were standing on their feet thanks to people like them. People like me were only parasites.</p><p>Eventually, I had to go home. Well, not exactly home. Alma called my parents and they came to pick me up. While my shocked mother took her second cup of tea, Alma told them about the unknown laboratory, the vaccines they were testing on us, the human traffickers, how I had escaped. My dad nodded solemnly throughout, believing every bit of the story we had prepared.</p><p>After a silence she told them not to blame each other and then she asked, implored them to hide the good news from the media. My parents agreed. It was best if the world thought I had died. My mother, however, deemed it unnecessary and risky to get fake documents, especially a passport. Instead, she came up with another solution: I would live in a different town every month; places packed with tourists where most people wouldn’t know my name or face, isolated communities where tradition overshadowed television and internet.</p><p>I stayed silent, staring down at my hands, as the grown ups mapped out the terrain ahead.</p><p>+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++</p><p>
  <strong>June, 2028</strong>
</p><p>The first two years I felt elated, released; the lack of hurry, the disappearance of any real sense of a destination suited me. I spent my time reading and studying, working hard to be someone. My dad bought a couple of small properties under my name and put them for rent so I didn't have to rely on him. We didn’t have the big house anymore, my parents had sold everything they had in order to pay for private investigators, billboards, rewards and other expenses.</p><p>During that time mom and dad had clung to one another, sharing rhetorical questions, awake in bed all night, theorizing one moment, despairing the next. But that was before they realized that their old intimacy, their habitual assumption that they were on the same boat, was gone. They remained huddled over their separate losses, and unspoken resentments began to grow. In the end they went their different ways, my dad found a less stressful job, and my mom moved to a different city. <em>It’s not a divorce, but “a time apart”, </em>they simply told me one morning. </p><p>I never went back to Mexico City, not once. I couldn’t afford to throw away everything we’d worked for. For a while it seemed I had a new direction, a new purpose, but then it became evident that my routine was false and depressing. I often longed for the presence of my parents and Alma, however, when they <em>were</em> present, I would do my best to push them away. I could not give or receive comfort, and being with people only heightened my sense of loss. Little by little I began to cut myself off from society. I went everywhere alone. I anesthetized myself with books and activity, and I made the first approaches to a serious drinking habit.</p><p>If there was happiness it was buried beyond my reach.</p><p>Here I was now, broken but alive, hiding in the beautiful and quiet Neek Kaan, an apartment complex located in Progreso, a port city on Mexico’s Yucatán Peninsula. The place was well hidden: it was surrounded by tall walls and every property was separated from the next by a thick mini jungle, which truly provided a sense of privacy. Most of the apartments were owned by foreigners and Airbnb hosts, and the city was always crowded with tourists and dozens of retired American and Canadian couples. In fact, this month I was the only Mexican in the whole complex --apart from the keeper and the security guard. Neek Kaan was the most perfect place I’d found to live so far.</p><p> </p><p>It was a particularly hot day, clear and bright. I moved one of the beach chairs under a palm tree and sank into it, careful not to spill the drink I was holding. The pool area was the only place within the complex where privacy flew out the window and all the neighbors gathered together. It was unusual for me to make a drink and bring it outside while I watched happy families enjoy their holidays, but this was one of those days when I felt like a normal 27 year old woman.</p><p><em>“Buenos días”</em> a retired American man in yellow swim trunks waved at me as he rounded the pool. </p><p><em>“Buenos días”</em> I replied, waving back from my chair. These families rarely talked to me because they assumed I didn’t speak English. And that's how I liked it. The less attention I got, the better.</p><p>There were less people here than usual, just a young couple sitting round a tin table laden with beer glasses. They were watching their six-year-old son swim, marveling at the difference between their childhood and his childhood.</p><p>“Very good!” The old man called as he sat on the edge of the pool, his legs dangling in the water.</p><p>The boy waved at his grandad and dived again. I couldn’t help but smile a bit behind my drink. I could see them more clearly than they could see me.</p><p>“Well done!” The boy's dad said, leaving his seat to watch his son's achievements. A certain pride filled his voice.</p><p>The small group was entranced by this beautiful boy. It was as if his laugh and bright hazel eyes were capable to put a spell on them. He was enclosed by this family's fierce, possessive love. None of these adults could picture their life without him.</p><p>“Careful, Liam!” The boy's mother called when he started to run around the slippery edge of the pool.</p><p>
  <em>Liam… </em>
</p><p>There wasn’t a single day I didn’t think about Laura, my baby who had gone away. She had not died, I couldn’t accept that. The loss of my daughter continued to break my heart, again and again, the same way that waves break up the monotony of a quiet beach. Some days the yearning was so unbearable that I prayed obsessively to have five minutes with her so I could tell her how much I loved her.</p><p>I lived my days walking hand in hand with the memory of who she could have been. A nine year old girl, right here, right now, exhausted because she spent the whole morning swimming and playing in the pool with this foreign kid, her head resting on my chest and her little body getting sun kissed under the blue skies of Yucatán. Had she lived, I would have gone to the ends of the world to rescue her. There’s nothing I wouldn’t have done to have her in my arms.</p><p>
  <em>“Don’t run, sweetheart!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m Flash!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Listen to your mother, Liam”</em>
</p><p>Her image was still in my mind. I’d only had her for a brief time, but I missed her, I missed her badly. No matter how brief my baby’s life had been, I had just as much right to grieve as any other bereaved parent. Nothing in the universe, not stillbirth nor a cord accident, could extinguish my love for her.</p><p>
  <em>“Mommy, look!”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Put that lizard down, you’ll hurt it!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Play with the ball instead, son”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What ball?”</em>
</p><p>It is said that loss is something we have to overcome. It’s not. Loss is something we have to live through, something we have to live with. Losses like mine could never be overcome. The world had too much to spare without her.</p><p>
  <em>“¿Te gusta las niño?” </em>
</p><p>The presence of a strange voice beside me aroused me from my uneasy daydreams. I turned to look. A young, blond guy with pale, creamy skin and blue eyes was smiling at me, holding a beer in his hand.</p><p>“Sorry?” I asked, bewildered. I was so lost in thought that I hadn’t caught what he’d said.</p><p>“Oh, you speak English!” he exclaimed in a British accent --a London accent-- moving his chair a bit closer to mine. “That’s wonderful, my Spanish is…<em>not good</em>. I’m Tom.”</p><p>“Paulina” I said, keeping my gaze on him as we shook hands.</p><p>Something inside of me felt warm at the small smile on his face. It was never a good idea to make friends in the places where I was hiding, but it had been a while since I’d last had a real conversation with anyone. To be alone with a complete stranger was an opportunity to chase away unpleasant thoughts.</p><p>“Are you here on holiday?” I inquired, trying to sound casual. It was like I’d almost forgotten how to interact with people.</p><p>“Sort of. I came to Mexico to apply for a job.” he replied nonchalantly through a small shrug. “I spent the whole week in Mexico City taking exams and having interviews. I needed to relax a bit"</p><p>He took a sip of his beer, before turning his head to the noisy family. An argument had broken out among them. It had something to do with a popped beach ball, for little Liam was crying and holding out the useless toy as he pointed at his father. Eventually, his grandad placed his drink on the table and went to console him. Liam’s mom was clearly upset with her husband.</p><p>“It must be your dream job if you came all the way from London just to see if you could get it” I said, trying not to laugh at the scene playing out before us.</p><p>“How did you—” he frowned, turning back to me. </p><p>“Your accent”</p><p>“Hell, you are observant” Tom teased, a smirk invading his features before he could stop it. “It is my dream job, actually" he went on. "I’m a geneticist”</p><p>“A geneticist?" I asked, perking up a bit. Since escaping from the facility I had been obsessed with genetics, toying with the idea of becoming a geneticist myself. My room was packed with science books and magazines. “But why here? I thought you had plenty of laboratories in England.”</p><p>“Oh, yes. But not every company has the same research programs. If I stay in London, I’ll probably end up performing paternity tests or interpreting DNA strands… you know, looking for faulty genes that will help scientists tackle diseases.” Tom concluded, shaking his head as if that was the worst possible outcome.</p><p>I nodded vaguely, considering what he had said.</p><p>“And why is that so bad? Isn’t that what geneticists do everywhere? Read strands of DNA?”</p><p>“You want to know, uh?” he said teasingly, arching an eyebrow as he set his beer at his feet.</p><p>“Yes” I replied, now looking intently at him.</p><p>“Okay”</p><p>He let the word hang enigmatically in the air. Tom had a pleasant face and an extremely flirtatious personality, and so he waited for me to blush before continuing.</p><p>“The lab I want to work for is trying to find a cure for cancer, just like many others in England.”</p><p>Another smile. Silence again. </p><p>“I don’t understand” I confessed, mildly annoyed at his little game.</p><p>It was pretty obvious that he wasn’t interested in telling me about his profession, he was interested in making me feel intrigued before asking for my number. Noticing my mood, he flashed another smile in my direction and made a <em>“come here”</em> gesture.</p><p>“There are rumors about this company” he said confidentially when I leaned closer to him. “They say they have programs far more interesting than cancer research. Some of these stories are just too exaggerated to be true, but then again, every lie contains an atom of truth, right?”</p><p>I shivered.</p><p>“And…what kind of stories are those?” I stammered, surprised to find myself asking. For some disturbing, twisted reason, I really wanted to know.</p><p>“Are you cold?” he asked through a tilt of his head, confused by my restlessness.</p><p>Little Liam had spoiled the mood with his cries and the whole family was going back inside their apartment. It was just Tom and me in the pool area now. I was actually going to tell him that I was indeed cold, but I refrained, that would have been a stupid answer, of course.</p><p>“No, no. I just…it’s nothing, go on” I replied instead, waving away his concern with my hand. “Stories about what?”</p><p>“Mutants” he whispered.</p><p>Suddenly, the air was harder to breath. My palms became sweaty and my stomach was abruptly uneasy. That hunting word was being whispered by a stranger once again. <em>An answer. A warning. A secret. </em></p><p>I looked up at him, waiting.</p><p>“But like I said, they're just rumors” Tom shrugged, barely aware of the effect this conversation was having on me. “They can’t be creating mutants, that's illegal. But if they do have blood samples and tissues, then they must be closer to finding the cure for cancer than any other laboratory. Mutant DNA may hold the key to effective vaccines and treatments!” he smiled a happy, confident smile, his eyes going wide with excitement as he added, “That’s my field, that’s what I want to find out. No other company in the world has had the nerve to take that path. And it’s right here, in Mexico.”</p><p>“But what if they’re not rumors?” My voice quavered, and I fought to control it. “What if they’re really…<em>doing that?”</em></p><p>Tom looked at me as if I were the most naïve girl in the world, probably regretting having approached me in the first place. In response to my quiet monotone the young man’s voice softened.</p><p>“No, of course not. If you heard any of these stories, you would agree they're lies. They're just too absurd to be true!”</p><p>I was shaking my head. “But what if they’re not?”</p><p>"They are lies" </p><p>I didn’t know why I was trying so hard to warn him, to make sure he wouldn’t end up in the wrong place. I shouldn’t give a shit about all this, <em>or him</em>. After all, I was a loner.</p><p>The seconds ticked by and I couldn’t find something with which to counter Tom’s abrasive self-confidence.Then, without any warning, he got up and held out his hand to me.</p><p>“I’ll tell you one or two, ok?” Tom said calmly, smiling. “But don’t tell anyone or they’ll think we scientists like to gossip. Come on.”</p><p>We started to walk towards the small, thick jungle ahead. I was looking at him, registering the fact that he was good-looking and sweet, but unable to separate his body from the horror of his words. I was obsessing over the idea that I had to save him. He was quiet, as if trying to choose a good story from the many he’d heard. I could hear a low buzz of voices coming from the apartments around us. It was lunch time.</p><p>“Oh, yes…this one is ridiculous!” he abruptly exclaimed, stopping. “Ok, so…according to this guy I work with, his cousin knew a pediatrician who used to work for this company, and whose job --<em>wait for it</em>-- was to treat the mutant children they have in an underground facility!”</p><p>I could feel the hairs on my arms standing up, some of the thoughts I had stopped myself from thinking were now rushing forward. For a brief moment I wanted to laugh, to conceal the overwhelming sensation that was creeping over me. I had thought that this part of my life was over. I was wrong. It had come back to get me, to torment me, to punish me. <em>They had found me. </em></p><p>The obvious thing to do was to make up some lame excuse and go back to my apartment, but instead, I simply returned his gaze and kept listening, not looking at all, just listening.</p><p>“But there’s more…” he continued “This pediatrician died about a year ago when he got stabbed in an alleyway on his way home. He was three days in intensive care, fighting for his life, and all the while he claimed that he had not been stabbed by criminals…” Tom trailed off, intuitively lowering his voice. "But by an eight-year-old girl with bone claws" </p><p>Quite suddenly, with the transforming rapidity of a catastrophe everything was changed. My legs weakened, a chill spread downwards through my stomach. Tom was laughing but I could not hear him.</p><p>I needed him to say the word. That's all I needed to hear. </p><p>“What’s the name of the company?” I asked in a bleak voice, the words flowing out without my consent. He stopped laughing, bewildered by the interruption. “What’s the name of that place!” I pressed. My voice had grown higher, a note of hysteria beginning to rise in it. I grabbed him by the shoulders and looked intently, fervently into his eyes.</p><p>Tom stared back at me, stunned.</p><p>“I…” he muttered, before clearing his throat. "Transigen" </p><p>I turned abruptly and marched away from him without uttering another word, nearly tripping over a branch. My heart was pounding, my vision swam to and fro and I felt faint. The air I moved through was dark and wet, and I was light, made of nothing.</p><p>I opened the sliding door and staggered into my apartment. I could feel Tom’s perplexed eyes on me, but I did not turn to look. When I straightened up, my stomach contracted and a bolt of coffee and margarita shot into my mouth. I spat into my cupped hands and stumbled to the kitchen sink to wash. Then, without any apparent interval, any connecting events, I was on the floor, slumping over my side and squeezing my eyes shut.</p><p>Tom’s words were sinking in. One by one they clicked into place in my head.</p><p>
  <em>‘…the mutant children they have in an underground facility!’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘This pediatrician died about a year ago…’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘…stabbed by an eight-year-old girl with bone claws.’</em>
</p><p>Flash backs. Dozens of them. I was back in the madness of the delivery room, blood pooling on the floor beneath the bed, wondering if my baby was dead.</p><p>How could I have been so stupid?</p><p>I should have made sure that she was really gone. I should have followed them into the other room. I should have stayed by her side. Why did I believe Donald Pierce’s words so easily? Aren’t mothers highly intuitive? Why didn’t I intuitively know that my baby was alive? I’d left her behind. I’d walked out into the world and gone on with my life.</p><p>A primal, raw, unbearable pain invaded me on all sides.</p><p>I remained still for hours, all through the night, sometimes dozing briefly, but never stirring. All the while there was something gathering in the silence about me, a slow surge of realization mounting with a frightening, tidal force that was steadily making me understand the true nature of what I had done.</p><p><em>Everything before had been a fantasy, a lie...</em> </p><p>Here, in the semidarkness, just before dawn, I began to cry.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>**"Hasta la raíz", Playing for change.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. FELIZ CUMPLEAÑOS</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong><em>**“So I’ll wait for you, I’ll pray</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>I will keep on waiting for your love</em></strong>
</p><p>
  <strong><em>For you...” </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>What’s to be done during a storm? We only have two choices: to seek shelter or get soaked. We do this as we wait for it to abate.</em>
</p><p>For a long moment I simply watched the morning light filtering down through the sliding door. The air was warm, too warm. My hair was wet and my skin hot and sticky. As I lay on the hard floor, I had a feeling that less time was passing than I realized. The day I now inhabited was not the day I had woken into.</p><p>My vision went in and out of focus as I rose and left through the front door, before walking slowly in the direction of the beach. It was just past midday. The air wasn’t suffocating out here. I could hear my neighbors chattering and laughing. I could hear the tide raking across the beach rocks. I was in another time. This was a dream, a frightening one, but I had to let it unfold.</p><p>I was not overwhelmed. </p><p>I kept my gaze fixed on the sea, the waves were lapping against an abandoned small boat. There was a brisk wind coming off the water, cool and briny. If I blinked right now, I would be back in my apartment.</p><p>I came closer to the shore, placing each step carefully as the waves washed over my feet. The pain twisted in unfamiliar patterns through my body, but so did a newfound hope. Why was I fighting it?</p><p>Maybe because I’d forgotten what real happiness felt like.</p><p>“Laura is alive” I murmured to myself. “She is alive”</p><p>I let dark thoughts wither to those words. Tears of joy rolled down my face for the first time in years. I was fighting the current that had been pulling me downward for almost ten years, I was forcing my arms to continue reaching, my legs to kick harder. I was resurfacing. </p><p>
  <em>I have a daughter… She’s out there… </em>
</p><p>I wasn’t longing for a tiny newborn anymore. I was no longer a teenage girl. The picture had changed. Both of us had changed. Time was moving through intricate patterns, assuming purpose all over again.</p><p>I was lucid, determined to advance.</p><p>A phrase seemed to repeat itself as I ran back to my apartment, as I grabbed my laptop and, out of impulse, typed the word “mutants” into Google. It was full of hate and fire and courage and unspeakable memories.</p><p>
  <em>No one touches my child.</em>
</p><p>++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++</p><p>“Yes, mom. I’m sure” I said in Spanish over the phone as I padded into the kitchen. “I want to stay here a little longer, it’s perfectly safe!”</p><p>“But you’ve been there for more than three months. We have to stick to the rules.” she muttered worriedly.</p><p>“Yeah, but… I like it here. I feel safe.” I said, inspecting the contents of the refrigerator. “How do you like Guanajuato so far?”</p><p>I took out a bottle of orange juice and shut the door loudly behind me. I hadn’t been to the grocery store in weeks, but at least the cupboards were now full of half empty boxes of Oreos and not half empty bottles of whiskey and vodka. I had left all that behind. <em>For her.</em></p><p>“Paulina…” my mom breathed, knowing full well that I was trying to change the subject.</p><p>"What?" I asked innocently, and she sighed. </p><p>“Guanajuato is far more peaceful than Monterrey, even my headaches are gone. It's a pretty place. Everything's ok." my mom dutifully answered, before adding, "Can I visit you?”</p><p>“Mom” I grumbled, taking a draw of the yellowish liquid “You know you can’t. Not now, I need to study”</p><p>“I miss you”</p><p>I put the bottle on the counter and ran a hand through my hair tiredly, not sure how to handle my mom’s pleas. </p><p>“Maybe in a couple of months. And you can bring Alma too” I replied, leaning against the wall.</p><p>“Ok” she murmured, obviously resigned.</p><p>There was an uncomfortable silence. </p><p>“Listen, I gotta go" I muttered. "I need to buy some stuff. I love you, ok?”</p><p>“Ok. I love you too”</p><p>I ended the call and stared at my phone, a bit frustrated. Mom didn’t deserve this, but it was for the best. I was going to get my daughter back. I had only to keep reading, investigating, searching. I had only to remain attentive, and I would surely enter the force field that would warn me that the answer was in front of me.</p><p>My investigation had begun as a simple Google search, but then my resources became a lot more sophisticated. I found myself ordering complex Genetics books and subscribing to science magazines. My YouTube search history was bursting with documentaries and conferences. According to most sources, mutants were extinct. There was a whole supermarket of theories regarding the subject these days. Some of them claimed it had been something in the water, others said it had been natural selection, and others that it had been a silent and unexpected war against them. However, most of this babble came from scientists like that Tom guy I’d met. He had mocked me when I'd tried to question him, he didn’t stop once to consider the other possibility. He was one of those people who assumed that the scientific community was never wrong. He believed in Science, but refused to believe that there were powerful people corrupting and controling Science. To people like him, mutants were little less than a memory. And that was a fact. </p><p>Science experts had trained their people to 'keep the mind of logic’, although anyone who understands arithmetic concepts knows that we don’t need to believe every single possible string of a system in order to solve a puzzle. By reasoning outside the system we can determine if a statement is a true one. Asking ourselves many <em>what ifs </em>provides the right conditions to find truths that our logical thinking obscures. Geneticists are intelligent human beings, not machines, they should be able to make sense out of ambiguous or contradictory messages. They should be able to recognize the relative importance of different elements of a situation. So why was the scientific community being so square? Why were they refusing to see the obvious? </p><p>I knew that there was a laboratory in Mexico City creating mutants. But what if they were not the only ones? What if Nature was still creating its own? Mutants were humans after all. They could only become extinct when the whole human race was extinct. Epigenesis involves complex cycles of chemical reactions. By the time a full organism has been constructed, there is not even the remotest similarity between its physical characteristics and its genotype. That means that any person could be carrying mutant genes without knowing. It’s a methodological error to assume that only the things which can be seen exist. What if mutants were not extinct, but hidden?</p><p>“Persecuted” I heard myself mumble as I stalked off to my room, leaving the bottle of juice ignored on the counter.</p><p>I grabbed my laptop and stepped over a stack of X-Men comic books, cussing when I almost tripped over a special edition issue. </p><p>It might sound a bit stupid, but after learning that Laura was alive I struggled to accept that she wasn’t completely mine. She was not my clone. She had a father too, a man I didn’t know much about, a man I never planned to have a baby with, but who represented the other half of her. Whether I liked it or not, Laura was his child too and I needed to know more about him.</p><p>Looking down at these items spread before me on the floor, uncertain what to do with them, I was impressed by what appeared to be very thorough research. I had combed comic stores and online shops. I had memorized every character, every story, every mutation, every adventure. I had even joined fan clubs and pages in the hope that some of these fans were lonely mutants trying to get in touch with others like them. There had to be a community out there, and I was going to find it. </p><p>Only mutants could help me. </p><p>I glanced away to the laptop screen. I had joined a healthcare forum where undiagnosed people described their medical symptoms to see if other users could give them answers. Questions like <em>“My kid sleeps only two hours at night, what’s wrong with him?” </em>were quite common. I was targeting posts of mothers whose pre-teens had weird symptoms. There was a particularly interesting case, an elderly woman who claimed that her twelve-year-old granddaughter had recently begun to hear voices in her head. She suspected it was schizophrenia, but the rest of the girl’s symptoms didn’t completely match up.</p><p>I tried to contact her, but this grandma wasn’t very good at technology, all her posts were full of random hashtags and she didn’t accept private messages.</p><p>It was frustrating.</p><p>I pushed the laptop away and rubbed my eyes. I was tired but I knew I wasn’t going to sleep. My body was too stubborn. Instead, I got up --my head spun for a moment—and grabbed my most comfortable clothes before crossing to the bathroom.</p><p>I undressed slowly and looked into the mirror. The face I saw was practically a stranger. I looked awful. I’d lost weight, my ribcage was clearly outlined and, despite living in a very sunny place and having a tanned complexion, my skin looked pale. This was one of the reasons I didn’t want my mom to see me. Every time she called I would stand by the window in my pajamas and make myself sound wide awake and happy, then I would go back to my laptop and books. I was determined not to break my stride.</p><p>But today...<em>Fuck</em>... I didn't even know where to start... There was a thought growing in my head. It was pathetic, absurd, stupid.</p><p><em>Self-destructive</em>.</p><p>To go to the nearest gift shop and buy a present for the ten-year-old daughter I had abandoned would be painful and cruel. She certainly would not be celebrating her birthday. Buying a ridiculous teddy bear or an overpriced doll would not move divine forces and bring her back.</p><p>It would not make any difference. </p><p>I’d missed her first steps, her first smile, her first words. Laura had changed in infinite ways throughout these years and I knew nothing about any of them. And yet, she was still my little girl. Her growing up was the essence of time itself. I had to think about her continued existence or the whole universe would collapse. I wondered if she called someone else <em>‘mamá’</em>. I wondered if nurse Mónica had kept her promise.</p><p>Hot water poured down my sore muscles as I sat in silence on the wet floor. A cloud of steam was rolling above my head, white and thick in the electric light. I closed my eyes. A new nightmare was just beginning. Not knowing how my child was being treated was one of the hardest things I was facing. Hanging on to my sanity for a minute at a time often took all of my energy. One moment I felt a surge of hope, the next, a depth of despair that threatened my mental balance. I had the certainty that my life would remain an emotional roller coaster until I could hold Laura in my arms. Right now, I was losing the fight. I was stuck.</p><p>If there were more hours in a day, if I could resist the temptation to allow myself five more minutes in bed each morning, if I could read faster, maintain my concentration, waste less time eating, trust my intuition, act on the correct impulse…</p><p>I stood up so fast my head protested immediately, spinning in an unsettling way. Wrapped in a towel I crossed back to my room in a daze and quickly threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, before dashing out the back door. The jungle garden in the middle of the complex was small, but today it seemed as large as the Amazonia<em>.</em></p><p><em>“¡Señor Roberto! Señor Roberto!”</em> I called the keeper, who was currently leaning over the pool, skimming off leaves and insects. He turned to look at me, pausing momentarily to wipe the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand.</p><p><em>“¡Señorita!” </em>he said, throwing a friendly smile my way.</p><p>“<em>Hola</em>.” I breathed. “Do you remember that British guy that came a few weeks ago?”</p><p>I watched impatiently as the short, dark-skinned man looked down to the ground and frowned, trying to remember.</p><p>“Tall, blue-eyed, blond. He was on his own” I urged.</p><p>Finally, Don Roberto turned his attention back to me, shaking his head. “No, sorry, <em>mija</em>. I don’t remember him” he answered, slightly embarrassed. I stared at him, and, realizing I was probably being a bit rude, offered him a smile.</p><p>“Don’t worry, it’s just that he accidentally took something of mine, something of sentimental value which I need to get back, so... ” </p><p>Don Roberto waited, curious.</p><p>“I was wondering if…if you would allow me to see the list.” I added cautiously.</p><p>All visitors --especially those that came alone-- were encouraged to write a number on the emergency contact list because, after all, the complex was next to the sea and natural disasters were a common thing. </p><p>Don Roberto’s jaw tightened at this, but he kept his smile in place with some effort. “I don’t know, <em>señorita</em>…” he trailed off, uncomfortable.</p><p>“Please, it’s very important” I insisted.</p><p>The man hesitated, studying my face from his place by the pool. </p><p><em>“Bueno” </em>he said after a bit of awkward silence<em> “Nomás no le vayas a decir a nadie que yo te lo di.”</em></p><p>I smiled. </p><p>“No, no, I won’t tell anyone” I assured him, experiencing only the mildest guilt that I was probably getting him in trouble. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…” I said, fighting the urge to give him a big hug as he gestured behind him to the office.</p><p>+++++++++++++++++++++++</p><p>
  <strong>Thomas Kinney</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Emergency Contact Person: Mrs. Martha Kinney +44 7598 649043 (UK)</strong>
</p><p>The names on the list stared back at me. He’d left his mother’s contact details. </p><p>I gulped as I dialed the foreign number. <em>Shit,</em> this was going to be embarrassing. Meanwhile, Don Roberto was sitting next to me, pretending to solve a Sudoku puzzle, intent on listening to the conversation.</p><p>“Hello?” a woman’s voice answered, and I felt a jolt go through me. </p><p>“Hi. Is this Mrs. Kinney? I asked, throwing my eyes around the room. My lungs felt kind of stiff all of a sudden.</p><p>“Yes. May I ask who’s calling?” she replied in a polite voice.</p><p>“Oh, my name is Paulina. I met your son Tom a few weeks ago in Mexico.” I clarified. “I’m sorry to bother you, Mrs. Kinney, but he took something of mine by accident, something of sentimental value. I only saw him once and…” <em>Fuck</em>, I'd made it sound like I'd had a random fling. “And I was wondering if I could speak to him…”</p><p>I could feel Don Roberto throwing a devilish grin in my direction. I blushed.</p><p>“I’m sorry to hear that, dear. You see, my son doesn’t live in London anymore. He works in Mexico City. But I can give you his new number if you want.”</p><p>I nearly screamed. Oh, God. Yes, yes, yes. Just what I was hoping for. He’d gotten the damn job.</p><p>“That would be wonderful, Mrs. Kinney. Thank you so much.” I said enthusiastically. </p><p>After writing down the number and thanking Mrs. Kinney once more, I hung up and turned to Don Roberto, who was still trying to solve his puzzle.</p><p>“How did it go, <em>señorita</em>?” he asked playfully.</p><p>“I got his number, Don Roberto. Thank you for helping me”</p><p><em>"No, de nada" </em> he said quietly, looking down at his magazine again. </p><p>I was about to turn my back on him when a fair amount guilt made me stop at the door. This man had just helped me and I hadn’t even said <em>Good morning</em>. He was the only maintenance worker at Neek Kaan and he rarely got to talk to anyone. Just like me.</p><p>“What’s that?” I asked him, peering from behind his shoulder. “Is it sudoku?” I said, failing to find a better excuse to start a conversation.</p><p>“This?” he laughed. “No, it’s not sudoku. It’s a magazine with brain exercises. It helps me kill the spare time. Here”</p><p>I took the magazine from his hand, frowning a bit at the man’s untidy scrawl.</p><p>“This is the riddle section, my favorite” he went on. “You have to solve the crimes by decoding the messages. Every mystery has a different one. For example, this one here is a cipher puzzle.” He explained, pointing to a bunch of random words on the page. He had already solved that one. In fact, he’d already solved most of them.</p><p>“It doesn’t make any sense, how did you solve it?” I inquired, genuinely surprised. Don Roberto was being wasted as a keeper.</p><p>“No, <em>mija</em>, that’s the point. You have to figure it out by yourself” he answered through a smirk as he moved to fumble around in one of his drawers.</p><p>I waited.</p><p>“Here” he said triumphantly, pulling out another magazine. “Keep it, I’ve got plenty of them. When you’ve solved all the puzzles come back and we’ll talk.”</p><p>I nodded once, holding his present in both hands as I studied it. “I’m pretty sure I'll suck at this, but I promise to give it a try”</p><p>He let out a heartwarming laugh and I waved goodbye. Before I turned, though, I heard him murmur something like “People need other people, <em>señorita</em>”</p><p>I frowned at that.</p><p>He kept watch the whole time as I disappeared into the jungle garden.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>**"1950", King Princess</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. EDEN</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> <strong>**"And even when we're worlds apart</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>I feel you pulling on my heart</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>There's nothing I can do</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Your gravity</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Brings me back to you"</strong> </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I was expecting change. The long books and science articles and magazines I read indiscriminately were making me think in terms of useful formulas, fresh winds, movement, light. I felt like I was training for an unexpected event. I had no doubt, though, that I was still in the shadows, but I was on the lookout for signs, small indications that my hard work was about to pay off.</p><p>Eventually, said changes came, but without any warning, they were more like a series of sudden and seemingly unrelated developments, the first of which began one morning with my discovery of a fan page dedicated exclusively to Wolverine. His fans believed he was still alive, hiding in plain sight near the Mexican border. Some of them even posted blurry pictures of “him”. I could spend hours looking at them, there was something about the man --something I couldn’t put into words-- that matched the character from the comic books. I liked to believe that his fans were right.</p><p>I didn’t feel capable yet of picking up the phone and dial Tom’s number. I didn’t have a plan. That was all. I couldn’t just call him and ask for his help. It was difficult to admit it, nearly four months after meeting him, but I was not sure if I was even ready to hear more of his stories about Transigen. </p><p>As well as my books and articles, I had Don Roberto’s magazine. I was not interested in the puzzles themselves or their codes. If the keeper had offered crosswords or chess, I would have been equally happy. The idea was to shake myself awake by learning something new, I wanted difficulties and challenges and the inviting absorption of finding subtle clues. As it turned out, I was immediately enchanted by the mystery puzzles.</p><p>If I was not exactly happy during these weeks, nor was I miserable.</p><p>Like most mornings, breakfast was a quiet event. I was chewing slowly and sipping on a cup of hot coffee while I tried to figure out a secret code riddle. I had already solved most of them and was enjoying the prospect of showing Don Roberto that I had actually made good use of his present.</p><p>I tucked some loose strands of hair behind my ear, arranging my methodical thoughts. The thin curtains were drawn, the windows wide open, and through them came the distant, airy voices of small children. The holiday season had just begun and families from Canada and the U.S. were flowing in to enjoy a piece of paradise. </p><p>The puzzle I was trying to solve was perfectly insufferable. It was the last one, therefore, the most difficult. I knew it was a cipher puzzle, but the words weren’t remotely connected to each other. I had been looking at it for half an hour, trying this and that, but I couldn’t make sense of it. The creator of this <em>goddamn</em> game was almost as infuriating as the grandmother from the healthcare forum and her random hashtags.</p><p>I ran a hand through my hair, a steadily growing frustration in my stomach, and stared at the words once more, studying them.</p><p>
  <em>Ok…Random words… A message… A hidden message… Come on!</em>
</p><p>My head snapped up.</p><p>I was surprised when I heard the ceramic mug smashing on the floor and found myself in the kitchen. I barely registered what I was doing as I snagged my laptop from the counter and went back to my seat, before logging into the healthcare forum.</p><p>I desperately scrolled down, looking for the post about the girl that heard voices. I quickly found it, and as I read through the replies, I realized that a hella lot of similar posts had the exact same random hashtags underneath.</p><p><em>My son is sweating all the time</em>…. <em>My teen daughter has sharp teeth… His skin is red, but he wasn’t in the sun… My ten-year-old is too strong for her age… My twins stare at each other for hours… My child is allergic to water… There’s something wrong with my teenagers’ skin… He attracts metal.</em></p><p>#case #go #medical #reiki #cause #tub #old #bio #key #egg #above #try #appointment #odor #ear #aid #esteem #experimentation</p><p>My eyes darted from the screen to the puzzle magazine. I couldn’t wait for Don Roberto to help me, so I turned back to the laptop and typed in<em> ‘How to solve a cipher puzzle’</em>. The results came up and I clicked on the first page. The instructions were quite clear, I had to read the first letter of the first word, then the last letter of the second word, then the first letter of the next word and so on.</p><p>Frowning a bit at the screen, I grabbed a pencil and wrote the hashtags on a piece of paper, then I began to circle the letters. My hands were sweating, my heart thumping as I muttered the answer to myself, praying that it would make sense.</p><p> C…O…M…I…C…B…O…O…K…G…E…T…T…O…E…D…E…N.</p><p>COMIC BOOK GET TO EDEN</p><p>I stared at the words. I didn’t realize I’d stopped breathing until I felt a tingling sensation in my lungs and gasped for breath.</p><p>
  <em>Eden.</em>
</p><p>I was able to talk myself into enough composure to handle rushing into my room and begin to pick up the X-Men comic books that littered the floor. I was specifically looking for the issue with the picture of Professor Xavier and the other mutants in a kind of desert.</p><p>“Come on, come on, where are you?” I mumbled, prowling quickly around the room. I headed to check the closet, I went back to my bed, I riffled through the covers. There was no sign of it. Where had I put it? I was reading it last week.</p><p>Just then, I noticed a flash of purple under a chair. My heartbeat rocketed as I strode to the other side of the room and picked it up, fumbling through the pages until I found what I was looking for.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>EDEN OR THE END…?</em> </strong>
</p><p>The words covered almost a quarter of the page. Professor Xavier was holding a kind of device with numbers on it. According to the story, these were the coordinates of Eden, a safe haven for mutants.</p><p>The next moment I was back in the living room, entering said coordinates in Google maps. The location was in North Dakota, somewhere among a huge forest and rocky formations. Just like in the comic.</p><p>The relief I felt was an overwhelming, heady thing. I stared at the page for another minute, shocked. I was right. They were out there, hiding, trying to find each other. <em>Trying to protect each other!</em></p><p>I began pacing as a thousand questions like <em>Who’s behind all this?</em> crossed my mind in a flash. The only person I could think of was Professor Xavier, the kind man who had dedicated his life to fostering outcast children. But no, it couldn’t be him. For one thing, I’d read that he and his students had lost their lives in a mysterious accident at his institute and it had been closed down after that, and for another, he didn’t need comic books and forums to locate mutants.</p><p>It was a hard thing for me to picture the person behind this, but these coordinates meant that someone in North Dakota was offering Laura and the other children the opportunity to have safety and security, access to education, a home, a FUTURE.</p><p>All the fear and anguish were being rapidly replaced by joy and hope. I stalked over to my closet and slid the door aside before pulling out a big suitcase.</p><p>I was going back to Mexico City.</p><p>++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++</p><p>The room was nice. It had a king size bed, a big bathroom, a mini bar, free high-speed internet, and bedside lamps with an elegant design. This hotel was a bit expensive, but most of the guests were foreign visitors, groups of Koreans and Americans crowding the lobby every morning, waiting for tourist buses to pick them up while the hotel staff rushed about. I’d had to register under another name and pay with cash. Coming back had been a risky and reckless thing to do.</p><p>I was standing by the window, taking in the surreal and wild view. This city did and did not look like the city I remembered. The last time I had walked in those flooded streets below, when I was still a teenager, everything had been pure and charming. The Angel of Independence, the palm trees, the ice-cream vendors, this little bird looking for breadcrumbs, that colorful butterfly perching on a statue. Back then I knew how to celebrate the specific, how to fill the present and be filled by it. Now, I was always partly somewhere else, never quite here, never quite <em>there</em>.</p><p>However, beyond all immediate risks and considerations, like the fact that I was betraying my parents’ trust, there was my right to be standing here. All the worst and the best things that had ever happened to me had happened in this city. This is where I belonged.</p><p>The bright light from outside was stinging my eyes a bit. Sleep had evaded me the night before and I currently had a terrible headache. Being so close to Transigen induced black thoughts, a darkening of my already fragile mood. In that first week I had flash backs every day. I’d be standing in line at the convenience store and suddenly I’d be back in a white cell, heavily pregnant, wondering if I was going to die. Every time that happened, I was unable to think about little else for the rest of the day.</p><p>I turned and looked at the digital clock on the nightstand. The numbers claimed it was two o’clock. This was the time to take a shower and then fix a drink and order some food. But I had a preoccupation to keep me here, gazing out of the open window, phone in hand.</p><p>Although I had fully intended to, I had not called <em>him</em> yet.</p><p>I looked at the small screen for a long moment, before tapping his name. I had to bounce back. Every second wasted was--</p><p>“Hello, who is this?” Tom’s deep voice interrupted my thoughts. He sounded different, apprehensive, aggressive even. I couldn’t hear the familiar playful notes in his voice.</p><p>“Hi, Tom. It’s me, Paulina” I breathed.</p><p>“Who?”</p><p>“The girl you met at Neek Kaan, in Progreso”</p><p>There was a heavy silence, and I felt a cloud of uncertainty coming from him.</p><p>“Please don’t hang up. Please….” I begged.</p><p>“How…how did you get my number?” His voice was hard and wary, like he was watching his back all the time.</p><p>“You left your mother’s name on a list, remember? I called her, she gave me your number.” I admitted, closing my eyes hard for a moment. “I just wanted to apologize for what happened that day, for walking out on you."</p><p>A silence again. </p><p>“Oh, that” he finally muttered, suspicion no longer threaded into his voice. “No, it’s fine. It’s all fine. It’s not your fault, I was boring you.”</p><p>He sounded awfully embarrassed. </p><p>“No, not at all. I was actually very interested” I clarified, and I practically heard his shy smile through the phone, which gave me the courage to add, “In fact, your mom told me that you live in Mexico City. I assume you got the job. Congratulations.”</p><p>My insides were chaotic with panic as I waited for his answer.</p><p>“Yeah…I did” he barely whispered. There they were, the precious words I was longing to hear.</p><p>“Perfect” I said, unable to hide the enthusiasm in my voice. “I’m in Mexico City too and I was wondering if…if you would like to have a coffee?”</p><p>“I…I’m not sure if we should meet again, it’s just that…” he began, hesitantly, focusing on making up a good excuse. I knew why Tom didn’t want to see me. The obvious ice breaker would be the stories he’d told me that day, and he now knew they were true.</p><p>“Please, I know you must be very busy, but I’d really like to see you. I feel terrible, let me make it up to you. Please.” I shouldn’t be begging, I hated begging, but pride goes down the drain when your child’s welfare is in jeopardy.</p><p>“I…umm..." he battled with himself for a second, then I heard him sigh. "Yes, it would be my pleasure.” Tom finally said, going back to his polite, nice old self. “Are you free tonight?”</p><p>“I am” I said softly, almost playfully.</p><p>He cleared his throat. “Brilliant, ummm, I’ll pick you up at six. Where are you staying?”</p><p>“Sheraton Hotel, in Reforma”</p><p><em>Shit.</em> I’d just given him my real location. There was something about this guy that made me trust him blindly.</p><p>“Nice. See you later then”</p><p>I never moved away from the window, and by the time I ended the call, I was experiencing the pleasurable transgression, the heightened significance that came with playing forbidden games.</p><p>+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++</p><p>I gripped the edges of the sink, facing myself in the mirror, looking at my long, dark, straight-ish hair. Running a hand through it would do. <em>Make up?</em> Maybe some eyeliner and lipstick. I wasn’t exactly beautiful, I think. I looked pretty average. But my dark eyes, the shape of my face, my complexion, and full lips had always been appealing to guys. They said I had a “feminine face”, whatever that meant.</p><p>I moved away from the mirror, restlessly, fumbling around for my leather jacket. It had been hard to decide what to wear. I wasn’t prepared for a date at all --if I could call this a date-- so I’d ended up in a pair of tight, dark wash jeans and a white tank top. I shook my head, trying to reorient myself, putting on a good show was all that mattered.</p><p>I glanced around the room, it was messy as hell. Instead of getting ready for my date with Tom, I’d spent the whole day browsing through websites to check if anybody had more information about Eden, but I couldn’t find anything. Google earth images only showed a desolate place, which was eating at me. If I didn’t find more information by the end of the month, I would have to go and see for myself if it was real.</p><p>I sighed. The all too familiar despair was beginning to settle in the pit of my stomach when my phone beeped loudly. I padded over to the bedside table, jacket in hand, as I read the text message.</p><p>
  <strong>I’m here. Silver Audi --Tom</strong>
</p><p>One more quick glance in the mirror and I dashed out of the room.</p><p>Minutes later, I was standing at the hotel entrance. There he was, leaning on his car, dressed in a pair of tight jeans and a navy cashmere sweater. I almost didn’t recognize him, the last time I’d seen him he was sunburned and half naked. This time he looked very…<em>British</em>.</p><p>A huge grin lit up his face when he saw me. He stepped closer and pressed his lips briefly and delicately on my cheek before opening the passenger door for me. I could tell he’d been living in the capital for a few months now, otherwise he wouldn’t have kissed me. That was an acquired habit. A <em>latino</em> thing.</p><p>The car was silent but for the soft purr of the engine. I looked at him, there was restrained amusement in the tension around his lips, which he unconsciously held pressed together. He was collected, alert, and far more serious than the Tom I’d met in Progreso. It was obvious that Transigen was leaving its mark on him.</p><p>“You haven’t changed one bit” I remarked, breaking the ice.</p><p>He smiled instantly. “Neither have you” His lips closed up again, and bulged once more with the effort of retaining a humorous observation.</p><p>“What?” I laughed a little.</p><p>“I’m glad you called, I haven’t been on a date in a very long time.” He said in a casual voice, keeping his eyes on the road, a hot flush in his cheeks. “I have a couple of restaurants and coffee shops in mind, but maybe you’d like to choose the place…” he trailed off.</p><p>There was a pleasing depth to his nervousness. He was watchful but the suppressed smile was still on his lips. The thrilling and erotic patterns of a first date are hard to ignore, and right now, there was a heavy and unexpected sexual tension filling the car.</p><p>“Actually, yes.” I said, clearing my throat. “I know a hidden gem in Condesa. The cakes are heavenly and it’s never crowded”</p><p>"Good" he smiled. </p><p> </p><p>The coffee place was small, cozy, and intimate. The perfect spot to discuss delicate subjects. The walls were painted to look rough and rugged, with colorful murals added on top, and the wooden tables were just as comfortable and home-like as I remembered them. The waitress arrived and we ordered tea, coffee, and cakes.</p><p>“See? This is more private” I said knowingly, flashing a gleaming smile his way.</p><p>I might not look it, but I was an expert in the art of seduction. For years I sought sexual experiences that overwhelmed me and that made me basically leave my body. I would viciously fuck guys --and the occasional girl-- when I was horrifically drunk, losing myself in their bodies until I felt wasted and numb. I had a very complicated relationship with dissociation because I knew that it was a marker of trauma.</p><p>The experience I gained was not worth the emotional toll. I realized sex couldn’t be, at least for me, something frivolous. Eventually, I met someone. He was nice. It got to a point where I was able to be intimate, but I didn’t feel passion. I thought that if we had as much sex as possible my mind would go back to normal, but that never happened. I tried telling him my story a couple of times, but I was unable to connect with another human being without going into the shame, guilt, and anger brought up during and after the sexual assault. I ended it and revisited the trauma several times. It took me a long time to acknowledge what had happened to me and find the best way to approach my lingering anxiety.</p><p>“And what brings you here, by the way?” he asked, reaching for his hot drink to take a sip of it. The earthy and sweet scent of fresh coffee beans and mint tea was hanging all around us.</p><p>“Oh, I was born here. I quit my job in Mérida as a tourist guide and came back. Hot weather is not really my thing” I lied, cutting a piece of cake. “How do you like Mexico City so far?”</p><p>“It’s everything I loved about New York and Paris that is long gone, plus its own flavor. It’s really hard not to fall for it.” Tom answered, mimicking my actions. “And the street food is amazing”</p><p>“I’m glad you like it” I muttered. Now he was his old, charming self, though I sensed a line of argument was being continued. “So, you got the job” I said, “Tell me about it”</p><p>Something in him hesitated as he fiddled with his piece of cake.</p><p>“Well, I got the job” he said through a shrug. “I managed to get in and work as a…as a researcher” he murmured, trying hard not to reveal too much.</p><p>“What about the stories? Are they true or not?” I blurted before I could stop myself.</p><p>He was shaking his head. “No, of course not.”</p><p>I narrowed my eyes skeptically. “Come on, you were so eager to work for that company." I smirked "Some of those rumors have to be true or you wouldn’t have stayed.”</p><p>Tom laughed nervously at this. </p><p>“I…well, yes. I…” He stammered, staring over my head, looking like a caged animal. An old couple was taking a seat next to us, motioning for the waitress to bring them the menu. Finally, Tom brought his cup to his lips and sighed heavily. “I don’t think I should be talking about my job. They make us sign a confidentiality agreement.”</p><p>My smile fell a little at that. He got me. Fuck.</p><p>“Oh, ok. I was just curious, sorry.” I muttered, taking a sip of my tea as I slowly realized that he was afraid of Transigen, just like all the other workers I’d met. “I didn’t mean to pry or make you feel uncomfortable. I just wanted to say…I mean, that day at the pool…”</p><p>The reply came back immediately in an even tone as he reached forward to touch my hand. “You don’t owe me an apology, babe”</p><p>My pulse quickened and I smiled shyly at him.</p><p>“I know…” I said “But still, umm, I wasn’t feeling well that day, I was a bit sick and had to run back to my apartment. I didn’t mean to be so rude. I was interested in the conversation, I really was. I love all these science breakouts and theories. Not every guy can hold a conversation like that…”</p><p>Not being able to help myself, I ran a couple of fingers down his forearm. However, my elevated heart rate and a sudden wave of arousal let me know immediately that I was falling back into my old ways, so I quickly released his hand and crossed my arms.</p><p>“Is that what really happened?” he asked, pulling back his hand awkwardly. “I thought I was being a nuisance.”</p><p>“No, of course not” I said through a wide smile.</p><p>Noticing that Tom was reluctant to spill the beans and that my cake was still untouched, I took a bite and changed the subject. We talked and laughed loudly as Tom told me a lengthy anecdote about life in London. Later, I told him about all the science books and magazines I was reading, occasionally getting interrupted by strings of commentaries of <em>I can’t believe you know that book! </em>or <em>That would take massive breakthroughs in technology </em>or <em>Wow, that’s a polemical theory.</em></p><p>“See? I do like science.” I teased after a while, blushing, feeling good. Tom was beaming, it was difficult not to tell him things in order to draw from him a smile, to bring him closer. All the suspicion and awkwardness between us now seemed like a childish game, and I wondered how we had kept it going for so long. I sat further back on the embroidered cushion of my seat, feeling confident and bold enough to broach the subject of Transigen once more.</p><p>“What’s your research about?” I asked, unable to hide the curiosity in my voice.</p><p>This time there was no hesitation. Tom leaned toward me and whispered, “I was right”</p><p>“Really?" I asked, intent on making him speak "Are they really studying mutants?” </p><p>“Oh, yes” he muttered. “Diseased mutants, of course” he hurried to clarify, before adding playfully “But don’t tell anyone." Then he took my hand once more and ran a finger down my wrist. I studied his face. He was far more interested in touching me than talking about his job. </p><p>"Is that all?" I pressed, trying to drag his attention back to our conversation. </p><p>"Yeah" he answered distractedly without taking his eyes off my skin. </p><p>I gave up. My tea was lukewarm. My mind was going blank. I was breathing unsteadily. Lust and want were radiating off our bodies. I had to call it a night before I did anything stupid that might cost Laura her ticket to freedom.</p><p>“Tom” I breathed. </p><p>“Yeah?” he asked, his voice soft and inviting. I knew that later I would be teased by the memory of his voice, and that intoxicating cashmere sweater, and his long, elegant fingers brushing the back of my hand.</p><p>“It’s been a lovely evening but I need to go back to the hotel.” I answered softly, yet firmly. </p><p>If he was disappointed, he didn’t show it. He simply smiled slightly and said, “Then we better get the check, sweetheart.”</p><p> </p><p>Tom pulled out through the heavy traffic, turning around to head toward the main avenue. He asked me to clear up some of his doubts about Spanish conjugation, so that was all we talked about on the way back. We laughed more than once when he failed to get it right, in fact, I hadn’t laughed so hard in quite a while, and by the time we got to the hotel I could say that he considered me a...<em>friend</em>.</p><p>I was smiling like an idiot as I made my way over to my room, running over all kinds of romantic scenarios, until I opened the door and the comic books scattered on my bed stared back at me.The world stopped spinning and I forced myself to stay focused on the reason I was here.</p><p>++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++</p><p>I need my child, I thought, succumbing to the inevitable.</p><p>It was for this reason that I found myself in a rented car provided by the hotel, dressed in an oversized hoodie and jeans, my hair still wet. The morning was pearly grey and the world was strangely quiet. It was imprudence, it was weakness, it would cause me needless pain. But something kept pulling at me, she kept pulling at me. Holding the keys in my trembling hands, I managed to start the engine.</p><p>I was not mad, I knew that I could not break in and take her. I knew what I was doing, I was not failing to maintain the line between my reality and my desperate wishes. This was something I needed to do, I’d spent the whole night planning it carefully.</p><p>A heavy stupor was clouding my mind as I headed toward Insurgentes avenue, and it wasn’t until I happened to notice the speedometer that I realized I was driving too fast. Periférico Sur highway was empty, and before I had the chance to check if I was going in the right direction, AstraZeneca, Armstrong Laboratories, and Perisur mall came into view. I was close.</p><p>I held the steering wheel with one hand as I reached out for my purse and took out a small pill box. I used to be addicted to clonazepam. I didn’t research it and just took it, the pills made me feel good, so I doubled the dose to twice a day. It was the only thing that could stop the panic attacks in the middle of the night that kept me awake. I quit it when I discovered that drinking, smoking, and having sex could numb my mind and body more effectively. And even though I knew it was a dangerous and addictive drug, and the horrid withdrawals weren’t worth it at all, I’d recently started to take it again.</p><p>I turned right into Panamericana avenue as my worst nightmare solidified before my eyes. The grey building was still standing proud, cruel, and unchanged. I parked in front of it, close enough to have a good view of the lawn and the front gates, but making sure I was off limits. I stared at it for a few moments, feeling the last of my sense of well-being draining from my body and getting replaced by a dull despair. </p><p>Laura was inside. </p><p>According to Tom’s story she’d killed people. They’d put blood in my child’s hands before the age of ten. How was I supposed to deal with that? I rested my forehead against the steering wheel, blinking back some tears and trying to catch my breath. I shouldn’t be here, but I couldn’t stop myself wanting to be here.</p><p>Just then, a noise startled me, and I lifted my head. A bus had stopped a handful of yards from me. I watched as a woman emerged and began to walk towards the gates. For a moment I thought she was nurse Mónica and my heart leapt, but then I saw her clearly. It wasn’t Mónica. This woman was taller and thinner, but her expression was as sad and wary as Mónica’s. I could ask her if she knew my girl, I could beg her on my knees to bring Laura to me, I could offer her a generous reward…</p><p><em>Do not open the door, do not cave into desperation, don’t go that way. You might never get her back if you do. </em>I told myself. </p><p>The thought of Laura being so close and yet so far unwrapped an anguish that engulfed the trees and streets and buildings around me. Nothing was under my control, not my movements, not my feelings, not my wishes, nothing. If I exhausted all possibilities, if Tom refused to help me and Eden was not real, I would get inside and find Laura myself, even if that meant seeing her for the last time.</p><p><em>"Aquí estoy, hija"</em> I whispered. "I'm here" </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>**"Gravity", Tyrone Wells.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. THE INVISIBLE CHILD</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <em>**“It's better to feel pain, than nothing at all</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>The opposite of love's indifference"</strong> </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Tom led me towards his luxe apartment in Polanco, one of Mexico City’s most upper-class neighborhoods. We entered by way of a spacious dining room whose wooden floor gave off an elegant freshness. All the windows were open to the afternoon sunshine. The ebony bookshelves were packed with encyclopedias, and in a corner of the room was a small table on which stood his various notebooks in neat piles. It was a quiet, organized, manly place.</p><p>We had been going out for the past month or so, sometimes greeting one another cautiously, others sweetly; sometimes we would have lunch and laugh the whole time, others we would drink a cup of coffee and talk about our families, and once we even kissed. That was the only level of intimacy I could allow myself. Tom thought I was playing my cards carefully.</p><p>For a while it seemed we would soon begin to touch on the subject I was at such pains to discuss. But no. Nothing important ever happened. I had no clarity, I was failing to find a way through. Terrible muscle twitches, cold sweats, nightmares and feeling like I was going insane were now an everyday thing. It was a slippery edge that I balanced on, and it wouldn’t take much to knock me down again. My problem was weakness, I simply did not have the force of character to tell him.</p><p>I was afraid.</p><p>I sat and rested my elbows on the beautiful dining table as Tom crossed the room to open the windows wider. Because I couldn’t keep stalling, I had accepted his invitation to try something called Sunday Roast. He loved talking about London, and by this time I already knew all the <em>tube</em> lines by heart, where to find the best fish and chips, how to pronounce <em>Greenwich</em> correctly, and why I should try Worcester sauce <em>crisps</em>.</p><p>“You have a beautiful apartment” I muttered, taking in the obviously expensive furniture around me.</p><p>“Oh, thanks. The company paid for it” he said. On the dining table were glasses, two bottles of wine and melon slices. From the kitchen, where Tom was cooking, came the delicious smell of roast meat and garlic. </p><p><em>“How cute”</em> I said sardonically under my breath as he brought in a bowl of vegetables. He didn’t fail to notice my annoyance.</p><p>“Sorry, what?” He asked, sitting down gracefully across the table, keeping his head slightly tilted towards the kitchen, listening out for the meat.</p><p>“Nothing. That was very nice of them” I answered absently, toying with one of the freshly pulled corks. </p><p>While we ate, Tom made harsh summaries of the recent lives of his friends and then he told me about the article he wrote for <em>Discover Magazine</em> reviewing a body preservation tank. Even though our talk was animated, I was feeling uneasy. I was talking freely, but that freedom was empty, baseless. Soon, my voice began to falter, and I could only think of leaving. He had little idea how most of my days were <em>really</em> spent, everything between us was half-lies, half-truths. It had been a mistake to accept his invitation.</p><p>After clearing the table, Tom suggested we sit on the couch and open a bottle of Scotch.</p><p>“There’s so much to talk about” he said, setting two glasses on the classy coffee table.</p><p>I shuddered at the thought of having a strong drink, and there was an indecisiveness which I didn’t dare voice as I took the glass from his hand. The all too familiar acidity of the drink was repulsive, it held the worst kinds of memories.</p><p>“Is everything alright?” Tom asked. His manner was apologetic, as if he was worried that I thought he was being boring. </p><p>I failed to sound lighthearted as I said, “Yes”</p><p>He took my hand in his, detecting the tension in my voice. The constant urban rumble outside could not mitigate the eerie silence that emanated from me, even when I was speaking and smiling.</p><p>“Is this your day off?” I asked, squeezing his hand affectionately before the old, awkward, careful politeness could re-establish itself. “Because if it is, I’m happy you chose to spend it cooking for me” I teased, and Tom snorted in response. </p><p>“Then I’m sorry to disappoint you. I have to be back in four hours” he laughed, taking a long sip of his drink.</p><p>“Oh, my god. Why?” I protested.</p><p>“Because we’re working on a new project”</p><p>I shuddered.</p><p>“Ah... and what project is that?” I murmured into my glass of Scotch, unable to help the fear in my voice.</p><p>“Well, I don’t know exactly <em>yet</em>, but it’s something big, something… <em>exciting…</em> as Dr. Rice puts it.”</p><p>That name sent a wave of terror through me. I sucked in a startled breath and went stiff. Luckily, Tom didn’t see me, he was leaning over the coffee table to pour more Scotch into his glass. However, when he turned back to me, he noticed the change in the color of my face.</p><p>“Are you ok?” he frowned, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.</p><p>I nodded, but this time he didn’t buy it. Instead, he looked at me with knowing eyes, leaning toward me. “Something’s worrying you. You've been acting weird since you arrived. What is it?” he demanded.</p><p>I blinked twice, ignoring his question and looking the other way. The sleepless nights, the visit to Transigen, the mention of Dr. Rice and his project, the mental strain, the pills…it was all crashing down on me. Tom set his glass on the small table and took my face in his hands gently, holding it just a few inches from his as he stared into my eyes.</p><p>“Hey, what is it?” he pressed.</p><p>I was speechless, unable to answer. We stared at each other for a long moment, his hands were trembling, his eyes mirroring mine. My brain was clouded with exhaustion and my body desperately wanted to get rid of the tension that was eating at me. I tried to make my voice say something to him, but none of the words sounded like mine, it was like hearing myself through a thick wall. In fact, I realized I hadn't even managed to open my mouth.</p><p>The tension kept growing. I could rise from the couch now, giving him an apologetic smile as I moved past him on my way to the bathroom. I would take several deep breaths and splash cold water on my face, pulling myself together. He would wait in his seat, and we would resume our small talk.</p><p>Or I could surrender.</p><p>The hesitation was brief and torturous. I closed my eyes and leaned towards him, pressing my lips to his. There was nothing but delight as he instinctively drew me across his lap and kissed me back. It was only then that I became aware of the overwhelming attraction and desire I had been repressing all these past weeks. I moaned into his mouth and coiled my arms around his neck, pressing myself hard against him.</p><p>He growled approvingly, withdrawing slightly from my grasp as he whispered, “Room”</p><p>The next moment we were slipping into his bedroom. My hands trailed underneath his shirt, running up the hard planes of his torso, tugging at the hem of the garment, and then, gratified by his excitement, I reclaimed him with a long kiss. The thrill of touching a warm body again was such that for some seconds I could do little more than lose myself in the sensation. </p><p>He began to remove my clothes slowly, taking time to let his lips kiss each new piece of my flesh as it was revealed to him.</p><p><em>“Babe”</em> he muttered, nuzzling my neck, running his fingers along the pole of my collarbone. </p><p>Once we were naked, he dragged me to his bed and kissed me hard. His hands were deftly exploring my body, getting me ready for him, making me writhe in pleasure.</p><p><em>“Dios, así…por favor” </em>I was moaning, forgetting my English.</p><p>He must have found it arousing because he broke the kiss off and his eyes roamed possessively over my body. I slowly, curiously, slipped my hand between the two of us. Tom growled deep in his throat as he dropped his head and muttered something like <em>“wait”</em> and <em>“condom”.</em></p><p>My mouth parted. He hadn’t even stepped out of bed and my skin was already protesting at the loss. I knew myself. If we got apart for a few moments, intrusive thoughts and flashbacks would reach me and it would be over. I would cross the room and close the bathroom door behind me, securing my independence and whatever was left of my sanity.</p><p>I needed to keep my head clouded with lust, <em>I needed to have</em> <em>this.</em> My grip on him tightened, I was twisting my hand with the perfect amount of pressure to send a pang of need shooting straight to his core.</p><p>“No, I’m clean…” my voice trailed off “…and I’m on the pill.” I lied.</p><p>
  <em>I lied.</em>
</p><p>At this, Tom’s eyes widened and he buried his face in my neck, before dutifully positioning himself at my entrance. </p><p>I moaned, arching my back, clinging to him as my delicate flesh parted and closed around him, as he tenderly filled the smooth and welcoming place. Every thrust was sending me closer to the edge. He was safe here, enclosed, <em>needed</em>. I was connecting with him, I was feeling free, he was offering everything I’d ever wanted. My grip was loosening, I was tensing up and digging my heels into the mattress. It was going to happen, for the first time in years I was going to have an orgasm.</p><p>Tom slipped a hand between us, pressing his thumb gently against my clit as he whispered sweet words into my ear. I couldn’t stand it anymore, the sensation was too overwhelming. The first wave of pleasure hit me hard and my chest swelled with love and trust.</p><p><em>This is how Laura should have been conceived… </em>I heard a ghostly voice say. It was full of resentment and frustration. </p><p>Something snapped in me and my body began to go numb. I couldn’t feel Tom anymore. A blurry, shapeless vision was unfolding, a different life in which my happiness could be much greater. I saw myself in my characteristic pose, on a leather couch, legs folded beneath my legs, hands folded tenderly across my swollen belly. No companies or laboratories or preservation tanks or empty boxes, but pure biology, existence, life itself, everything benevolent and perpetual.</p><p><em>What are you doing? </em>The voice continued on, hissing in my ear. <em>Why did you lie to him a moment ago? </em></p><p>
  <em>Don't fool yourself, you know why. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>You want to get pregnant. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>You are trying to replace her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Go on, that'll make things easier. </em>
</p><p>All of a sudden it was like all the air had been sucked out of the room.</p><p>“No!” I shouted, pushing Tom off me as I sat up. “Stop!”</p><p>Instantly, his hands gripped the tops of my arms. He held me at arm’s length and peered into my eyes, trying desperately to think of something he had done to cause this.</p><p>“What’s wrong? Are you ok? Did I hurt you?” he asked worriedly.</p><p>I blinked at him.</p><p>“Baby, what's wrong?” he tried again, impulse making him hold my arms a little tighter.</p><p>Suddenly it was all too much. “Please, please…” I whimpered.</p><p>“What is it? What’s wrong?” he insisted, now becoming restless.</p><p>I let my head fall into my hands. “You have to help me, please” I sobbed.</p><p>For a moment Tom was too winded to do anything, but then he placed a hand gently on my head and gathered me in his arms.</p><p>“Ok, calm down, sweetheart. It’s ok.”</p><p>“It’s not” I murmured into his chest.</p><p>“Shhhh, tell me what happened” he said calmly as he stroked the back of my head.</p><p>I swallowed hard and looked up at him, attempting to regulate my breathing as tears poured down my cheeks.</p><p>“I have a secret” My voice was nearly soundless. Tom took in the agonized expression on my face and frowned.</p><p>“A secret?” he whispered, my strange words suddenly making him wary.</p><p>“I lied to you before” I confessed, keeping my tone careful. “I wasn’t sick that day at Neek Kaan, I ran from you because you said something… something that had to do with my past”</p><p>He was staring at me with guarded eyes. “Ok, go on.”</p><p>I took a steady breath, struggling to clear my head. “Ten years ago, I was kidnapped when I was walking home--”</p><p>“What?” he said, suddenly tense. </p><p>“They drugged me and I passed out…” I continued on. “I woke up hours later in a white room… a cell. It was a facility, and underground facility! They held me captive there for more than a year” I paused and looked up at him with fierce, knowing eyes. “They forced me to carry a baby”</p><p>Tom was shaking his head, his eyes bulging wide with some kind of confused horror. "What-- you don't ---"</p><p>I offered the slightest nod, easily guessing his question.</p><p>“Transigen” I muttered.</p><p>His mouth popped open like something had stuck in his throat and he jumped out of the bed, pressing his fingers to his temples, breathing fast. For a moment, I wondered if he was going to faint, but then he looked back at me with a strange paranoia. </p><p>“How much do you know?” Tom practically snarled, stepping towards me.</p><p>“They made me believe she was dead.” I hissed, ignoring his question, looking at him wildly. “I've been running away for ten years!"</p><p><em>"How-much-do-you-know?"</em> he pressed. </p><p>"And then you showed up and told me a story…" I said, breathing hard. "A story about a girl with bone claws!" </p><p>It was like I had slapped him. He was frozen, pinned to the ground. </p><p>“X-23” was all he managed to say, his terrified eyes wide and staring as the bitter truth hit the air. </p><p>I felt tears welling up in my eyes again as I nodded slowly. </p><p>He shook his head in disbelief. I held my breath as his clear blue eyes moved in quick, unpredictable triangles, from my left to my right eye and back, then down to my mouth, struggling to find the catch, the sick joke. I practically felt the involuntary panic rising within him when he couldn't find anything. </p><p>“<em>Fucking hell</em>…of course she’s yours" he finally muttered, a blank look in his eyes, a slight accusation in his voice. "That child is a replica of you!”</p><p>I made a noise of incredulity, a little yelp on a harsh intake of breath as I scrambled up from the bed and grabbed his face in my hands. </p><p>“You know Laura? You’ve seen her?” I asked, frantic, desperate to hear his answer.</p><p>“What? Who?” he stammered, leaning back, and at this, I tightened my grip. </p><p>“That’s her …that’s the name I…”</p><p>I stopped.</p><p>Tom was staring at me, confused, scared, baffled, unable to come back to himself. My hands dropped to my sides and I took a step back. I was feeling light-headed, exhausted, so exhausted that I could barely stand.</p><p>“Her name is Laura” I murmured through tears, struggling to stay in control. I was losing my voice, I was dismayed. "And she... she..."</p><p>I couldn't tell if he was moved by tears or my words, or if he suddenly managed to get a grip on himself, but he stepped closer into my space and pulled me close to his chest.</p><p>“I’m sorry” he mumbled into my hair. “I’m so sorry…”</p><p><em>"Laura"</em> </p><p>I was experiencing the same overwhelming sadness and despair I felt every time I thought about her. Mothers of young children are intimately involved in their daily lives. I was missing the small changes, the time that was supposed to be mine. I didn’t even know her face. I was the mother of an invisible child.</p><p>“Please” I whispered between sobs, failing to retain my composure. “How is my baby, Tom? Please…”</p><p>He swallowed, holding me closer. It was taking him too long to come up with a reply, as if there was something else trying to be said through his restless silence.</p><p>“I… I don’t know” he finally murmured.</p><p>I disentangled myself from him then, lifting my face as I called a halt to my emotion. “What do you mean you don’t know? You just admitted that you know her!” I retorted. </p><p>“No, I don't!" Tom said defensively. "I’ve only seen her file, it has her picture attached to it…” he trailed off, unsure how much to share. “And footage, I’ve seen footage of her” </p><p>I, however, wiped away my tears in response, waiting for a better answer.</p><p>He sighed loudly. </p><p>“We’re not allowed to go underground, we only fertilize the eggs and make sure they’re carrying the mutation, once the embryos leave the Department of Epigenetics --that’s where I work-- we rarely see the final product again, I mean… <em>the babies.” </em>he corrected himself. </p><p>I studied his face for a long moment, measuring truth by the subtle movements I detected in his eyes, gauging his expression.</p><p>He wasn't lying.</p><p>Suddenly too aware of my nakedness, I sighed and quickly picked up my scattered clothes. I pulled on my underwear and jeans before throwing on the tank top. Tom got the hint and began to get dressed too.</p><p>“But can’t you find a way to get to them? I asked suddenly, throwing on my jacket. “A way to get them out?”</p><p>For a few moments Tom was unable to move from where he stood. He stared at me, confused and appalled. “Are you asking me to…”</p><p>“Yes” I cut him off through tortured eyes. “I’m asking you to help me get her out of Transigen.”</p><p>He laughed once at my words, but the sound was tense with fear. </p><p>“No, I’m sorry” He backed away from me and turned around, striding into the living room.</p><p>I chased him. “I am her mother, she is my child, mine!” I shouted, pain breaking into my voice. “She doesn’t belong in a laboratory, she belongs with me!”</p><p>He spun around to face me. “I can’t do that!” he barked out bitterly. “It’s too dangerous, if they catch me I’m a dead man. You don’t know what they’re capable--”</p><p>“But I do! I do!” My anger spiked up again. “You have no idea what I’ve been through! I was kidnapped, and mentally tortured, and impregnated against my will…and raped.” Tom’s eyebrows shot up at this. “They treated me like a piece of trash! You are a privileged white man, living in a <em>fucking</em> lavish apartment which was bought with the suffering of Mexican children and their mothers! So don’t you dare tell me that I don’t know what Dr. Rice and his people are capable of! I do! I DO!”</p><p>I regretted the words as soon as they came out of my mouth. There was a tension, a painful weight floating in the room. As I gasped for breath, I forced myself to think of what had just happened. Tom was standing dumbfounded across the dining table, motionless, as if watching himself through my eyes. I had broken my news in the worst way possible, expecting this guy to react just as I wished, to take the matter in hand for me. And then I had been aggressive, demanding, self-pitying. I had exposed myself too easily, too soon, I had shown him my weak point. And yet the truth was that Tom’s fate was fixed, for I was not going to give up.</p><p>We stared at each other for another moment before he slowly dragged a chair and sank into it, looking at the floor as if he was reading something that was written there.</p><p>“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” I began, taking a step forward, but he shook his head and I stopped, allowing him to collect his thoughts.</p><p>I was preparing myself to cling to the last fragments of our argument and keep demanding the impossible, when he looked up at me somberly, straightening a little.</p><p>“I..” he cleared his throat. “I can’t get her out of Transigen myself. They are guards everywhere and the place is like a maze, but…” I was tense, uncertainty flowed between us as he stood up and closed his eyes momentarily. “We can work together and save her.”</p><p>I processed his words for a moment, and then, I felt a confused smile starting to appear on my face. I crossed the room and took the young man eagerly in my arms, a swell of relief and happiness crashing over me. I tried to say <em>thank you,</em> but my lips trembled. Tom instinctively wrapped his arms around me, and I felt him chuckle. </p><p>Then the whole world was different.</p><p>Tom dropped his arms and let himself fall into the exciting, reckless, dizzy experience of transgression. </p><p>“I need data, I need to know who works in the underground lab, who supervises the girl, where she's being kept, her daily routine…” he was now pacing around the room like a maniac, the scientist in him taking over. “If we don’t have all that information we’re going to fail...”</p><p>“Yes, I agree” I muttered, smiling at his eagerness, even as I tried to focus on the problem at hand. </p><p>“I know this is hard for you, but if there’s anything you can remember about this underground facility, anything we can use as a starting point…” he urged.</p><p>I bit my lip, trying to recall any useful details.</p><p>“Yeah... ” I trailed off. “When I was there I saw plenty of nurses, but the Mexican nurses were in charge of the girls, I mean, <em>us</em>. They were good people… maybe the children have nurses too?”</p><p>Tom’s eyes widened at this.</p><p>"They're the ones in charge??” he said enthusiastically. “I've seen them! There are six of them! They rarely go upstairs... well, expect for one. She is particularly chatty, I see her very often…” he squeezed his eyes momentarily, trying to remember. “Valeria! Her name is Valeria!”</p><p>I found myself smiling. The kids were being looked after by these women.</p><p>“You could talk to her, ask her if…” I began, before a name entered my thoughts. “No, wait. You said you know all of them…Do you know nurse Mónica?”</p><p>"Mónica?" he repeated. There was a brief silence, and then he shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. “No, I’ve never heard of her.”</p><p>My face fell, and he stared at me with confused, anguished eyes.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” Tom asked.</p><p>“She was my only friend back then. I asked her to look after Laura…”</p><p>“Hey” he murmured, stepping forward before running a hand down my side “All of these nurses are kind, <em>they’re good people</em>, like you said. I’m sure that… <em>Laura</em> is being well looked after.” He struggled with her name, it would take him a while to get used to it. </p><p>“But why would Mónica leave her? She promised to be there for her” I said quietly.</p><p>Tom swallowed hard at this. “Babe…” he hesitated “I don’t if I should…maybe I’m wrong but…from my limited knowledge, it is unlikely that Mónica had quit her job or something like that. Employees like her usually… How should I put it? Uh….they…I mean, Transigen…”</p><p>“Don’t” I cut him off, knowing full well what he was trying to say. He nodded solemnly and moved to kiss my forehead. </p><p>“I promise to find out which nurse is looking after Laura. She’ll tell us everything we need to know, including how to…ummm…” he hesitated once more. </p><p>I narrowed my eyes suspiciously, taking a step back to read his face. “What?”</p><p>He shook his head and dismissed my question with a wave of his hand. “Nothing, forget it”</p><p>“No, tell me. Including how to what? What were you going to say?” I insisted.</p><p>He paused for a second, as if deciding whether or not to speak his mind.</p><p>“Ok” he finally sighed. “I know that you –<em>like any other mother--</em> think of your daughter as a sweet and lovely little girl who likes unicorns and cupcakes but… but X-23, I mean, <em>Laura</em>, is not exactly like that… she’s… <em>dangerous</em>. I can’t just go down there and steal her. She’s never seen me in her life, I’m a stranger to her, she might…” Tom trailed off, looking at me a bit helpless. </p><p>“Oh.” I managed awkwardly, understanding what he was getting at. “Yeah, I see” I murmured, casting my eyes downward as I remembered the anecdote about the pediatrician. “Sorry, I forgot about that tiny detail, but you don’t have to risk your life, of course." I assured him. </p><p>“And neither do you.” he added solemnly.</p><p>"Me?" I asked, confused. "Why would I be riski--" </p><p>“You’re a stranger to her too, baby” he clarified. </p><p>It took me a second to grasp what he was saying, but as soon as the realization hit, I felt a knife going deep into my heart. I hadn’t thought about that. I had this romantic idea that Laura was inside a white cell thinking about her <em>mami</em>, dreaming of her, longing to see her. But the truth is that I didn’t know how affected she was by the physical enclosure and neglect. Many cases prove that feral children are often emotionally and mentally fragile. Nevertheless, it was my job to save her.</p><p>I stared at Tom. I had no idea what expression was on my face, but he smiled and bent to kiss me. “Don’t worry, we’ll work it out.” he whispered.</p><p>“Yeah.. we will” I answered absently, and then, I was brushing past him, fumbling around the living room for my purse. “In fact, I’ve been doing my own research. I can show you, it’s all on my laptop. I can come back tomorrow and—”</p><p>“No” he cut me off, crossing the room. </p><p>“No?” I asked, a small frown forming on my face. </p><p>“No” he said, moving to take the bag from my hands. “You can’t stay in a hotel anymore, it’s much too risky. Stay here, please. Live with me.”</p><p>“What?” I exclaimed.</p><p>“It’ll be easier to make a plan if we live together and… you need a new identity, anyway. Transigen hates unfinished jobs, and if they find out that you’re alive, if they find out that you’re in Mexico City…” Tom trailed off, placing my bag on the table. </p><p><em>Fuck</em>, he had a point. That’s exactly why I had been hiding all these years. But I couldn't keep running away, hiding from the world, being invisible. The time to use Alma's gift had come. </p><p>“You're right” I muttered, taking a long, steady breath. "I need a new identity" </p><p>“Fine." Tom said. "If any of the neighbors ask, you are my wife that just came back from Mérida.”</p><p>“Your wife?” I flinched, and he smiled crookedly at me, finally breaking through his carefully composed mask.</p><p>“Yes, and a geneticist too." Tom added, and I looked at him as if he was insane. "Come on, you know more than enough about the subject, even more than many of my co-workers” he winked. </p><p>"Whatever" I muttered, though I felt a wave of pride wash over me. </p><p>“And now" he went on. "Do you have another name? Everyone here has two names." </p><p>I crossed my arms and shifted on my feet a little. “Yeah, Sara, like my grandma. Nobody ever calls me that” </p><p>“Perfect. Then I’m calling you <em>Sarah</em> from now on." he said, before adding playfully, "And you're my wife. That's the most important part.”</p><p>I rolled my eyes dramatically, blushing a little. “But it’s <em>Sa-ra</em>” I laughed, correcting his pronunciation.</p><p>A small frown formed on his face. “Don’t torture me, please”</p><p>“I’m joking" I smirked, stepping toward him a bit more, before running a hand up one of his arms and whispering in his ear, “<em>Sarah Kinney</em> it is.”</p><p>He shivered with pleasure and closed his eyes, his hand feeling its way down to my narrow waist.</p><p>“Only…” he breathed, a bit overwhelmed by my proximity. “I don’t know how to get fake documents, so maybe it’s not…”</p><p>“But I do” I cut him off “Leave it all to me” I whispered huskily against his lips.</p><p>He nooded meekly and then kissed me fervently, hungrily, and I responded in kind, but when it became <em>too obvious</em> that he was intent on resuming where we had left off, I chuckled and leaned back just slightly. Our lovemaking had proved to be more triggering than I’d expected.</p><p>“What?” Tom whispered, breathing hard. </p><p>“There’s one more thing I want to ask from you…” I said, my hands returning to my side. “Can you bring me some pictures and footage of Laura?”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>**"Stubborn Love", The Lumineers.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. AND TELL HER I LOVE HER</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> <strong>**"Filled with so much hatred, </strong></em>
</p><p>
  <em><strong>Such a tired game</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>It's enough! I've done all I can think of</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Chased down all my demons, </strong></em>
</p><p>
  <em><strong>I've seen you do the same"</strong> </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The evening felt surreal and hazy, disconnected from the evenings that had come before and the evenings that would follow. I had never felt as close to her as I felt today. Never.</p><p>I was standing by the window, wearing my pajamas, glancing nervously at the raging wind rocking the trees planted along the avenue. Sometimes referred as the Beverly Hills of Mexico City, this neighborhood was home to famous museums, world-class restaurants, and shopping malls. Now that I no longer had to live with the painful secret all by myself, I was beginning to feel capable of a limited social life. Not well-established friendships, but simple, undemanding interactions with other people. I’d been sorely tempted to go to the café around the corner, but I was too restless, too ridiculously intent on protecting the crazy movement of my thoughts to squeeze into the warm, tiny place. All the things that had seemed important this morning were important no longer. All that mattered now was for me to undo the huge knot of thoughts that was currently blocking my mind.</p><p><em>Be careful what you wish for</em>, I thought, glancing down at the yellow envelope in my hands, which seemed to grow bigger and heavier as the hours passed. It was hard to admit, but I was obsessing over the idea that there was something wrong with her, that seeing Laura was going to destroy my fantasies and dig up buried thoughts and emotions. I'd spent most of my pregnancy thinking of her as a monster, a thing. What if those feelings came back? What if I found her intimidating and failed to love her? What if I felt no connection to my own daughter?</p><p>I couldn’t put it off any longer. I padded, barefoot, across the spacious bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. Tom had a small and tasteful guest room, but he had implored me to stay with him. I’d been slowly growing accustomed to him over the past month, growing accustomed to his sheets and his morning coffee, the smell of his neck after he had a shower, the sight of his name on my phone when he texted. He was wonderful. A blessing, really. He would cook for me, watch me eat, wait for my calls, take me out from time to time, and make sure that I was feeling comfortable before we had sex. More than enough reasons for a bond to form, and yet, I didn’t love him. A voice in the back of my head wouldn’t allow me to fall for him --or any other man-- right now. Laura was my priority. My time, my attention, my energy, my heart, all of me belonged to her. Tom hadn’t recoiled or sighed or told me to go back to the hotel when I’d explained this to him. He had been very kind about it.</p><p>I found myself tearing the envelope open. I had made my decision, it was already a fact. It was almost in the past. I pulled out its contents –a file and a USB stick-- and as I did, I formed a single thought: all evidence of her existence was here.</p><p>I looked at the folder, frowning slightly as I read the cruel lie printed on it.</p><p>
  <em>Transigen. Pediatric Cancer Study.</em>
</p><p>And below this, there was a rather lengthy confidentiality warning. <em>God</em>. Tom was putting himself on the line for me.</p><p>I bit my lip and, slowly, opened the folder.</p><p>My hand flew to my mouth. I tried to swallow and couldn’t. There she was. The beautiful thing. A disheveled little girl that oddly reminded me of my ten-year-old self. It was a black and white photo, but it was quite obvious that Laura had inherited my straight dark hair, my face shape, eyes, and complexion. She was undoubtedly mine. <em>Mine.</em></p><p>I stared at her picture for a long time. Was I happy? Was I sad? I was more surprised than anything, surprised at how lovely yet so uncanny her face was. I was thinking about her wild, fiery, kind spirit hovering above this apartment, staring at me as it descended to inhabit this black and white photograph. It was obviously there, capable of moving me to strenuous efforts, and its demand was clear and present: <em>I am your daughter. Love me. </em></p><p>Warmth shot through my veins, chasing all my fears and doubts away.</p><p>Once the initial shock subsided, I began to leave the mother behind and let the scientist possess me. My eyes flew over the document in my hands as my thoughts became an uninterruptable torrent.</p><p>This girl was test subject number X23-23, not Laura. They had written her father’s name, but not mine, I was 0089-JGS, a host. She didn’t have an identity. No name, no surname, no nationality. She was non-existent in the eyes of the law.</p><p>The more I read, the more I understood why they’d chosen me and Logan as DNA sources. This child’s physical and mental attributes were a perfect blend of her parents. They’d fiddled with her genes to give her the best of us. She was what some geneticists call <em>a designer baby</em>. But whereas Transigen's scientists had created the proper chemical context for her DNA to evoke certain physical characteristics, they could not possibly have deduced all the necessary chemical environments, complex mechanisms, and triggers to predict her personality. Let alone control it. Laura and the other kids were genetically modified humans, but humans all the same, they were just as changeable and autonomous as the rest of us.  </p><p>I chuckled. Tom was right, these idiots were not as good as they thought, or they would have considered this insignificant detail before investing millions of dollars in these children. They should have just made adult clones, not human babies capable of developing consciousness and empathy throughout the years. A person made from scratch, with no past and no memories, is more likely to follow instructions like a computer.</p><p><em>"Less likely to stab their pediatricians" </em>I muttered to myself. </p><p>However, not everything was right with my girl. Whereas her IQ was pretty high, her emotional intelligence was around that of a six-year-old. A child whose brain receives so little social and visual stimuli can’t be expected to develop normally.</p><p>I glanced at her face once more. Suddenly, a photograph wasn’t enough. I needed to see her move and breathe, hear her voice, have a glimpse of the kind of life she was leading. My impatience was so great I wanted to shout, I wanted to throw the stupid file to the floor. Instead, I rose to my feet and went to sit at Tom's desk. Then I turned on my laptop and quickly attached the USB stick to it.</p><p>The screen lit up.</p><p>There was a one-year-old girl dressed in a white onesie, sitting in a metal crib. I immediately recognized the crib, the room…and the girl. I gasped. My worst nightmare was materializing before my eyes. My baby daughter, a precious little thing with velvety dark hair and big brown eyes, was wailing as if her heart was breaking in two, her chubby cheeks red and smeared with tears, her tiny body jerking in fitful spasms. The person holding the camera began to walk towards her, and what happened next gutted me. Scrambling to her feet she steadied herself against the bars of the crib and held out her arms to them, her little hands grasping into fists again and again.</p><p>“Be quiet, X-23” the man behind the camera said at last, laying a restraining and heavy hand on the baby’s shoulder. “Sit down”</p><p>Laura fell on her butt and her distress peaked. Even though this was an old video, her cries were stirring up in me a primal sense of urgency, my blood pressure was going to the roof. <em>Was she hungry? Hurt? Sick?</em> <em>Cold?</em></p><p>I watched her intently. All the crying, the anguished sounds, all that raw grief could not possibly belong to a baby. It was an ancient grief, centuries old. It was the grief of someone who has nowhere to go, who isn’t expected, who has no one. Laura wasn’t sick or cold or hungry or hurt.</p><p>She wanted to be held.</p><p>The screen went dark and the next video popped up. It showed a plain, white room. No windows. I heard the click of a door being opened and, seconds later, a man in a lab coat walked in carrying a four-year-old girl. Laura again, this time she was dressed in a long-sleeved cotton shirt and black leggings. Her bodily proportions had changed dramatically; all that baby fat that had made her look so cuddly was gone, her arms and thighs had become more slender, and her face was less round. She had a longer, leaner, stronger appearance. The man put her down in front of the camera and then stepped back.</p><p>She stood there, looking <em>exhausted? Bored? Wary? Scared?</em> The expression on her face was so unreadable it was disturbing. A chill ran down my spine, followed by a pang of guilt. I was having trouble reading my kid’s face for the second time in a row.</p><p>“Tell me who you are.” a male voice off camera demanded as if he was interviewing a murder suspect instead of a small child.</p><p>Laura turned her big, dazed eyes towards him but didn’t answer. In fact, she stiffened like she was having a flight-or-fight response. She looked like an animal in the wild when they stand motionless with fear.</p><p>“Are you X23-23?” the man asked in a flat voice. There was a long pause, and even though I couldn’t see the other people in the room, I became aware of a stirring among them. Finally, Laura shook her head stiffly.</p><p>I was taken aback. That child was definitely her, why was she shaking her head? Wasn’t that her number?</p><p>“Uh, sorry, doctor.” another male voice said hesitantly, a younger voice. He sounded embarrassed. “It’s the nurses’ fault, they gave them pet names. These women are too lazy to remember numbers.”</p><p>“What do they call her then?” the <em>doctor</em> inquired, unable to hide the irritation in his voice.</p><p>“Laura” the young man answered.</p><p><em>‘Laura…’ </em>her name left my lips in little more than a whisper as happiness and pride and pure satisfaction invaded my whole heart. Mónica had kept her promise. My little girl knew her name. That’s why she’d shaken her head. Little as she was, she was standing her ground against these people.</p><p>The doctor sighed heavily before asking his next question. “How old are you?”</p><p>A silent Laura thought the question through before raising her hands timidly, showing them six little fingers.</p><p>Oh, not only had I been unable to read her face, I’d miscalculated her age as well. But she was so tiny… <em>was she malnourished?</em></p><p>“What’s your mutation?” the doctor questioned her, his voice as stiff as the six-year-old’s body. Laura looked at him helplessly in response.</p><p>“She’s got bone claws, doctor, and she can heal.” the young man quickly answered for her before the older man could give another loud, breathy sigh.</p><p>“Show me.” the older doctor demanded drily.</p><p>Something flashed in Laura’s mind and I felt her terror and her anguish as my own. I wanted to touch her, feel her, protect her. Her agonized eyes darted briefly to the camera, and for a second I thought she was pleading for my help. This sudden and urgent feeling to reach out to her wasn’t new to me. I’d felt her pain and sensed her fear countless times before. I wasn’t much of a spiritual person, but in this moment I understood the deep, intuitive blood bond I had with my child. All those nightmares, the sudden feelings of anxiety and terror, the heart palpitations. It all made sense now.</p><p>“This is a waste of time!” the doctor snapped, pulling me back from my reverie. “I can’t assess anything if she doesn’t cooperate. Can’t you make her obey, <em>for God’s sake</em>?”</p><p>“Yes…yes, of course Dr. Lewis.” the assistant stammered before clearing his throat. </p><p>I stared in shock as two bulked men with the alert manner of bodyguards stormed into the room, holding a stun gun attached to a long stick. Before Laura could react, she was on the ground, writhing in pain. Her expression slowly folded into a mask of pure anguish as the hitmen stepped on her little limbs to keep her from moving.</p><p><em>Why was I doing this to myself? Why was I watching this? </em>Laura was struggling, her brown eyes glowing with terror. I was able to read her face then: she knew what was coming next. One of the men rolled up her shirt, revealing a soft, babyish belly, while the other pulled out a sharp knife from his duty belt.</p><p>“No!” I shrieked, feeling an overwhelming urge to jump into the screen and put myself between the knife and my daughter.</p><p>Streams of blood poured onto the white floor as the knife cut through her delicate skin, even as she struggled pointlessly. I felt like my head would explode from the agony of hearing Laura’s screams. Instinctively, I looked away, a panic attack coming on suddenly. I was about to close the laptop lid and get through it when the screaming stopped and only Laura’s ragged breathing could be heard. Cautiously, I turned my eyes back to the screen.</p><p>What I saw first was blood, almost black in the dim light of the room, completely obscuring her little torso. I sat without moving, astonished, it was painful to see this happen to a body I loved. And then, my shock grew exponentially. The tender skin of her abdomen was miraculously stitching itself back up. I opened my mouth without making a sound, I shook my head. It was impossible.</p><p>I studied Laura's body for a long moment, her stomach wasn’t expanding and contracting with each inhalation and exhalation, the pain was so unbearable that she didn’t want to breathe properly. After a minute or two her wounds had completely healed, but not her heart, not her soul. The impact of the abuse she’d just suffered went beyond any physical injuries. She was numb with shock, her gaze relaxed into emptiness. It was like looking at myself in that dirty cell after having been sexually assaulted: shattered, scared, ashamed, alone. A rag doll somebody had forgotten on the floor.</p><p>The screen turned dark again, and the next video started playing. This time there was a seven or eight-year-old Laura standing on a round stage protected by a thick glass. The place looked like a small theatre or a big demonstration room. The ten rows of seats it contained were occupied by stern-looking men and women in lab coats and black suits.</p><p>Laura wasn’t alone on stage, there were two men by her side, Dr. Macey, the doctor that resembled a vulture, and a stranger whose upper lip was smudged with closely shaved stubble. And behind them, almost standing in the shadows, there were two hitmen holding a pair of huge handcuffs, and next to them, that cruel American man with the robotic hand. <em>Donald Pierce.</em></p><p>I fixed my eyes on Laura. She was wearing nothing but a white tank top and cotton panties, not exactly what a mother wants her little girl to wear when she’s surrounded by a bunch of old men. Unlike the previous video, she didn’t look frightened or even self-conscious. There was something off about her, something that was making me uncomfortable. Though her face was composed, her dark eyes were clearly examining the faces in front of her. I noticed that nobody in the room wanted to meet her gaze, and even some of them were twisting nervously in their seats. I could see why. Laura’s eyes were intent and hostile. I shouldn't be thinking this about my daughter, but I couldn’t help it, I felt like I was looking at a new species of intelligent, lethal animal. <em>A predator.</em></p><p>“Welcome to the anatomical demonstration of one of our key weapons: X23-23. I am Dr. Enberg, head of the Department of Pediatrics.” The strange doctor began. His voice was a strained tenor, the words enunciated with precision and caution. “As you have seen, there’s nothing on its exterior that gives away its non-human nature.” he continued on, gesturing to Laura.</p><p>My eyebrows shot up as indignation took hold of me. <em>Its non-human nature?</em>  This piece of shit was humiliating her in front of dozens of people. <em>What the fuck? </em></p><p>I watched him as he walked closer to Laura and took her right arm in his hands gently, holding it as if it was a rare, expensive object. She let him, never taking her intelligent eyes off the audience.</p><p>“However, inside these normal-looking forearms there’s a pair of retractable sharp bones which resemble the claws of some mammals. They run from here to here” He explained, tracing a thick finger across Laura’s forearm. “It has two claws in each arm and one claw in each foot” He let go of Laura’s arm and clasped his hands before adding, “I’ll show you some X-rays in a few moments so you can have a thorough understanding of its anatomy. In the meantime, Dr. Rice…” he trailed off, addressing a man sitting in the front row.</p><p>Upon hearing his name, Zander Rice stood up and leaned over one of the microphones attached to the bullet proof glass. </p><p>“X-23, this is Dr. Rice talking to you.” his voice came through a set of speakers on one of the walls. “Unsheathe your bone claws. All of them.”</p><p>The room went still. Heads were turning in Laura’s direction, eyes that met hers slid quickly away, and here and there, were suppressed smiles of excitement. The young girl found herself looking straight into Dr. Rice’s empty eyes. He nodded faintly to indicate that she had no choice but to obey.</p><p>I held my breath.</p><p>I saw Dr. Macey move a step back as a complete set of six sharp, ivory claws jutted out of Laura’s knuckles and feet, making an unfamiliar sound that echoed in the silence. Half the audience gasped with amazed disbelief whereas the other half was perversely intrigued by her unique body. Once their shock subsided, they began to clap. Zander Rice gave them a nod of thanks as Dr. Macey and Dr. Enberg grinned proudly. Even Donald Pierce's expression was a little smug.</p><p>Laura’s knuckles and feet were bleeding and her breathing was hard. The sight set me on edge, nobody in the room seemed to care that she might be in pain. Laura was a thing to them. I looked at her face more closely, she was wearing a scowl and her eyes were sparkling with frustration. <em>She didn’t like being looked at.</em></p><p>“Well, as you can see, it is pretty impressive.” Dr. Macey stepped forward, addressing his audience for the first time. “Nobody would believe that such small limbs could conceal such lethal weapons. But there’s something even more impressive about them…” he trailed off, as if waiting for the committee to take a guess. He was certainly enjoying the attention. “This creature is bleeding because the claws tear the skin open when they extend. And I know you must be thinking <em>Now we have to give it stiches and wait for it to heal” </em>he gave a sly smile. “None of that. Its body possesses an inherent ability which we’ve been enhancing artificially throughout the years: a healing factor”</p><p>As if on cue, Dr. Enberg moved to stand next to Laura, before bringing up her arm once more, although this time his grip was firm.</p><p>“Dr. Rice has allowed me to do a demonstration for you all.” Macey went on, his confidence never wavering. “Dr. Enberg will break its arm in two presently, so that you can witness this amazing ability in all its splendor”</p><p>At this, Laura’s eyes flashed up to Enberg's face in terror, and only then did I put the pieces together. I knew what was going to happen next.</p><p>I blinked, astonished.</p><p>Before anyone could jump between them, Laura glared at the pediatrician with baleful eyes and stabbed him in the stomach, a fiery snarl leaving her throat. The man screamed in agony, and Pierce and his hitmen launched themselves at the little girl, grabbing her limbs, even as they tried to restrain them with the huge handcuffs. The crowd panicked, people fled in all directions, running for the exits, but I could barely hear their screams over my daughter’s furious growls.</p><p>The last thing the camera captured was Dr. Rice’s carefully cultivated mask twisting into a new expression. <em>Incredulity? Doubt?  </em></p><p>No. It was fear.</p><p>A little time passed before the last video came up. It showed a wide, bright, and colorful room. I frowned. <em>Was this really Transigen?</em> There were happy monsters painted on one of the walls and tattered toys and books scattered on the floor. A handful of children and nurses were playing and reading, the laughs and the murmur of low, smooth voices a gentle hum in the air. It had to be Transigen because the kids were wearing the same thermal white shirts and grey pants they’d made me wear while I was there.</p><p>The camera was focusing randomly on each child, a couple of them were running around, others were playing with strange-looking orange balls, and the older kids were chattering happily. The video was a bit shaky, as if the person holding the camera was holding it awkwardly or trying to hide it.</p><p>There was a brunette woman at the back, a nurse, holding a girl on her lap. I recognized my child at once --I would spot her in a crowd even if I couldn’t see her face-- but she was not the Laura I’d seen in the other videos, this was a completely different girl. The footage must be recent because she looked exactly like in the black and white photo.</p><p>The kind-faced nurse was reading a book to her in Spanish,<em> a fairy tale</em>, judging by the cover. Not what I would have chosen to read with Laura, but she seemed to be enjoying it. My girl was entranced by the story, nibbling distractedly on her index finger.</p><p>I couldn’t help but smile like an idiot as the adorable scene played out. The lovely nurse was adopting fun voices and adding expression, using dramatic pauses and playing with vocal speed. Laura’s eyes were sparkling with delight; she was happy, relaxed, comfortable, so full of innocence and joy in spite of everything. Every time she withdrew the finger she was sucking and pointed to the colorful illustrations in the book, the nurse would dutifully pause to name the depicted objects, <em>‘Chimenea’ ‘Pasto’ ‘Flauta’ ‘Conejo’</em>. They must have been reading <em>The Three Little Pigs </em>because the nurse’s eyes suddenly widened and she said, <em>‘¡Soplaré y soplaré y tu casa derribaré!’</em> making a wolf-like voice as she buried her face in Laura’s neck, pretending to bite her. The girl squealed and writhed, laughing out loud as the woman planted several kisses on her cheek. My daughter looked warmer when she laughed, as if she let down some guard that had never been absent in the other videos.</p><p>A hot tear rolled down my face, feelings of love and regret and grief were inundating me all at once. The nurse looked exhausted and the sadness in her eyes spoke of a story she would never tell the world, yet she was effortlessly loving this child who wasn’t biologically hers. She was holding my baby girl so tight… and the way Laura was looking at her... <em>like she was pure magic.</em></p><p>At that moment I felt indescribable gratitude for this woman, but also a hole in my chest. I had brought Laura into the world, but that nurse was clearly her mother.</p><p>“Hey, Gabriela!” the man holding the camera startled the woman. Nurse Gabriela glanced at him with a puzzled expression, as if she’d forgotten his presence. Laura's laughter stopped abruptly and her smile erased. “No. Don’t do that, don’t kiss her. Put her down, please” the man chided.</p><p>“<em>Sí, señor</em>. I’m sorry” the nurse glanced down, abashed, as she sat Laura on the floor, placing the book on the girl’s lap before walking away. Laura stared down at it for a few seconds, completely motionless, and then, she suddenly grabbed it and threw it against the wall. </p><p>“Stop it now!” I heard the man bark at her. </p><p>The camera zoomed in on her face, she was scowling, anger and frustration flashing in her eyes as she breathed heavily. The screen went dark again.</p><p>Laura was gone.</p><p>I stared at my reflection for a long time, replaying all those images in my head: her eyes, the cries, her screams, the rooms, her pain, her laughter, the nurse. I felt a pressure behind my eyeballs, a lump in my throat. I wanted to cry for everything we had gone through. I wanted to cry for everything that could possibly happen to my daughter. I wanted to cry for the miracle that she was. For the overwhelming gratitude I felt at her existence. For the sheer terror I felt at the enormous pressure there was to save her.</p><p>The sense of unease grew stronger as everything started to sink in. I drew in a breath, fighting off the demons of guilt and remorse. Living through all these years, making a plan, moving here. It had been empty time, dry of meaning or purpose. <em>Why wasn’t she here with me yet? What was I doing wrong?</em></p><p>What I needed to do now was stop focusing on myself.</p><p>I got up, scrubbing a hand across my face to dispel the memories and images my subconscious was conjuring up. Breathing started to get more difficult, I was hearing my baby’s cries distantly in the back of my head, and for some fucking reason I couldn’t find my T-shirt. Impatiently, I pulled on my jeans and jacket, then grabbed my phone and strode across the hallway.</p><p>A faint sound of keys alerted me to Tom’s presence before he opened the front door.</p><p>“Hey!” he smiled widely at me, entering the apartment. He’d forgotten to remove his badge, and the sight of the green logo only added to my stress. I stood awkwardly, staring at him with wild eyes.</p><p>Suddenly, he was serious.</p><p>“What happened? Where are you going?” Tom asked, taking in my horrified expression.</p><p>“I’m going to get my daughter” I replied, brushing past him, but he grabbed me by the arm and spun me around.</p><p>“Wait, <em>what?</em>” he blurted out.</p><p>“You heard me.” I said, wrenching my arm free of his grasp. “She won’t be spending another fucking minute in that facility.”</p><p>That pulled him up short and he held up his hand, stepping in front of me. “Ok, calm down, you’re not going anywhere.”</p><p>“Get out of the way” I snarled.</p><p>“No, calm down…” Tom was warning.</p><p>“They’re torturing her!” I cried suddenly, taking and involuntary step back. “They stab her and scare her and force her to stand in front of people like a circus animal! They don’t even allow the nurses to hug her or kiss her or even make her laugh!” My voice broke at this.</p><p>For a moment, Tom was too shocked to react, and before he had a chance to open his mouth again, I shoved him out of my way and strode over to the door.</p><p>“No, you won't!” he cried, grabbing my arm once more. “You can’t just break in and take her. They’ll kill you both, they’d rather kill the child than let the world see her!” The words rushed from his lips in panic.</p><p>“They’re already killing us!” I retorted.</p><p>“Listen, I know how you feel but--”</p><p>“Have you ever lost a child?” I cut him off, looking him in the eye.</p><p>Tom gave a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “No”</p><p>“Then don’t try to pretend that you know how I feel.”</p><p>We were staring at each other. I felt my eyes growing large and round with desperate, protesting helplessness. I was falling back down, being swept through invisible waves. Tom pulled my face against his chest then, but it was too late. I was drowning. I couldn’t accept the fact that Laura’s life was shriveling to nothing while I was so contentedly sitting at home. I was being tested, and I was failing.</p><p>“I want her back! I want her back! Bring her back! Bring her back! I want my daughter back!” I cried, letting out and agonising, frustrated wail. </p><p>“Shhh, shhhh. It’s all right, it’s all right” he chanted again and again.</p><p>I put my hands against Tom’s shoulders, to push him away. But instead of pushing they crept up and round his neck, and I clung to him.</p><p>“<em>Solo quiero a mi hija</em>.” I said quietly, closing my eyes.</p><p>“I know. Take a deep breath, sweetheart.” Tom said as he pulled me back into the apartment. I was still shaking, shaking hard, my legs were caving in under me and everything around seemed to wobble and blur in my eyes. He walked me to the nearest sofa and then went to the kitchen. Seconds later, he was back with a glass of water and two pills. “Sit up, babe. Take these.”</p><p>I should probably ask him what he was giving me, but I honestly didn’t care. The pain was so overwhelming that in these moments I didn’t want to feel anything. I swallowed the pills and handed him back the glass, then he came to sit beside me and took my shaky hands in his. As my breathing evened out, I made the interesting discovery that I was still wearing my pajama shirt.</p><p>“You look tired” Tom said, stroking my tear-stained cheek. </p><p>He was right, I was tired enough to sleep but my mind was lost in thoughts of Laura.</p><p>“We’ll get her out, we will.” he whispered, pulling me against his chest once more. </p><p>“But when will that be?” I whispered back, uneasily.</p><p>His arms tightened around me. “I saw Valeria today --<em>the chatty nurse I told you about</em>. I asked her out to lunch and we talked. Hope you don’t mind--”</p><p>“What did she tell you?” I glanced up at him, suddenly coming back to my senses.</p><p>“Well, not much. She’s chatty and flirtatious, but not an idiot. She wouldn’t spill many details about the children...although after a few smiles and compliments I managed to find out who looks after Laura, her name is--”</p><p>“Gabriela” I stole his line.</p><p>He abruptly pushed me away from him to meet my gaze. “How do you know that?”</p><p>“I saw her in one of the videos, she was reading a storybook to Laura.” I muttered. “When I saw her kissing and hugging the girl, I immediately knew she was the nurse we were looking for. Didn’t you see the footage?” I queried.</p><p>His expression twisted in response to my question. “No, I just stole it from one of the rooms. I’m sorry, I should have checked the contents of the memory stick before giving it to you. If I’d known that Laura was being tortured, I would have looked for…less painful footage. I’m so sorry”</p><p>“Don’t be" I said softly "It was amazing to see her again. She’s amazing.” </p><p>He chuckled at this, noticing the worship in my voice. “Like mother like daughter”</p><p>A grin stretched my face, Tom was hard to resist sometimes. “Go on” I urged him.</p><p>“After learning the nurse’s name I went to the room where we keep all the files and looked for any information about her.” he began. “Her name is Gabriela López and she lives in a modest apartment in the Doctores neighborhood. She’s been working for Transigen since 2019, which means that she met Laura when the baby was one year old.”</p><p>I felt a surge of relief. In spite of living in a deprived environment, Laura had been receiving some affection and physical contact since she was little. “Have you ever seen her?”</p><p>“Not only have I seen her, I’ve talked to her a couple of times. She’s a lovely woman. Laura is in good hands.” he reassured me, pressing his lips to my forehead, and I gave him a little nod. “I had a casual conversation with nurse Valeria about our jobs --she looked exhausted, by the way-- and at one point she confessed that most of the nurses are fed up with Transigen, especially Gabriela.”</p><p>“Why her?” I peered at him questioningly.</p><p>“Well, according to Valeria, <em>Gaby</em> often finds it hard to emotionally detach herself from the test subjects.” he shrugged, and then fondled his earlobe as he said, “That kind of information isn’t very helpful but…”</p><p>“It is. I know what we have to do.” I sat up a bit. The pieces of the puzzle were finally starting to fall into place. All those months of endless research were about to pay off.</p><p>++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++</p><p>We spent the night in the dining room, facing each other across the ebony table. A sealed Thermos and coffee mugs had been set out by me. X-Men comic books, magazines, files, pens, maps, and notebooks were scattered across the table. Tom already knew about the document forgers, Eden, and that Logan was alive because I’d shown him everything weeks ago, however, we’d never really made a plan. Until now.</p><p>After pondering our options, we agreed that it would be best if I went to North Dakota and made sure that Eden was real while he stayed in Mexico City to carry on with the plan. I didn’t like this arrangement because it meant leaving Laura behind, but it seemed like the best course of action.</p><p>“Ok, let’s review” I said, kicking my slippers off carelessly. “I leave for North Dakota and find Eden, then I ask the mutants living there to help us save the children.”</p><p>He blinked at me. </p><p>“That sounds wonderful, but what if they refuse to help?” Tom asked. He was a little skeptical about the whole thing. “What if Eden isn’t real? What if it’s a trap?”</p><p>“Then I’ll be Eden.” I said fervently “I spent the past ten years hiding away, finding safe places to live. I can do that again. If Eden isn’t real, that location will still be our meeting point, I’ll wait for my daughter up there and then I'll take her somewhere safe. Laura can’t stay in Mexico.”</p><p>“That’s an amazing plan B. But who would bring the child to you? Me?”</p><p>“Gabriela” I answered.</p><p>Tom frowned. “The nurse?”</p><p>“Yes. We would give her everything she might need in order to take Laura to North Dakota: money, instructions, visas, a car…”</p><p>“Whoa, whoa, stop right there!” Tom interrupted. “First of all, why Gabriela and not me?”</p><p>“Because you need to hold back Dr. Rice and his people long enough for Gabriela and Laura to cross the border.” I explained.</p><p>In fact, I had stronger reasons to believe that the nurse was a better candidate for the task. First of all, she knew my daughter better than anyone else and Laura trusted her; second, Gabriela would know how to handle certain people and situations across Mexico --which would be the trickiest part of the journey-- better than any foreigner; and third, my instincts were telling me that this nurse would die before letting anything happen to Laura. </p><p>“You’re probably right” Tom mused. “But why give them a car and not plane tickets? That way they wouldn’t have to risk their lives on the road.”</p><p>I took a deep breath, slowly realizing that Tom was too tired to think straight. “Tom, Laura is a feral child…and a mutant. You can't put her on a plane full of people.”</p><p>“Yeah, sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.”</p><p>I smiled a bit at him. “It’s ok. I’ll take care of all the details. I’ll buy a car at a dealership and put it under Gabriela’s name so she can pick it up herself when the time comes."</p><p>“What about the money? You can’t give her a credit card, it’s not safe” he pointed out.</p><p>“I know how to get large amounts of cash because I rarely use credit cards”</p><p>“And the visas?” he asked tiredly.</p><p>“I’ll pay for them in advance and let Gabriela decide their names. Some circumstances can change along the way and she’ll know best.” I relaxed and leaned against the back of the chair before continuing, “And anyway, I’ll get another set of documents for me and Laura. Everything will be easier if I can prove that she’s my daughter wherever we go"</p><p>“And mine.” Tom mumbled.</p><p>“Yeah, thank you for letting us use your surname.” I chuckled, although I abruptly felt possessive of Laura.</p><p>Tom stood up and walked slowly toward me. “Okay, now let’s look at all this logically.” he said calmly, bending a little. “You are expecting this woman to cross Mexico and most of the U.S. with a mutant little girl while being chased by Donald Pierce and his Reavers. She’s a very kind woman and all, but this nurse has her own life, and her own problems, and her own family to tend to. Why would she go to such lengths to save this kid? Why would she risk her life like that?”</p><p>“Because she loves her.” I replied confidently.</p><p>He stared at me for a few moments, then dragged a chair and sat by my side. “It doesn’t work like that.” Tom said solemnly, shaking his head a bit.</p><p>I felt my eyebrows pull together. “I know that the world is a shitty, selfish place, and that most people go through life <em>minding their own business</em>. But I was looked after by one of these nurses during my pregnancy, and then a humble woman saved me when I had nowhere to run to, and yesterday I witnessed this nurse break the rules just to give my daughter a little happiness.”</p><p>He sighed in exasperation. “Yes, but…”</p><p>“Listen. I may be reckless and stubborn, but I know what’s best for my child. You have to trust me.”</p><p>Tom blinked at me for a second.</p><p>“Right. I need some sleep.” he muttered in response, suddenly standing, doubt and irritation etched on his face. He walked into his –<em>our?—</em>bedroom a bit clumsily and closed the door behind him. He wanted to be alone.</p><p>I felt exhausted, physically and mentally. No light was coming in through the window yet. I knew it was only a matter of time till I succumbed but I didn’t want to close my eyes. I rose to my feet and walked into the living room before sitting with my coffee on the couch. I turned on the television. </p><p>I didn’t know how it happened. One moment I was watching a documentary and the next I was standing in a long, white corridor crowded with faceless shadows.</p><p>I heard a sharp scream. It was Laura, somebody was hurting her. With shaky legs I ran towards the sound, calling her name, but the corridor was too long, endless. Her agonising screams echoed throughout the space, disturbed only by the sound of my panting breaths. I pushed against the shadows furiously, fighting the long limbs that shoved me back. My voice was breathless with exertion and I couldn't see anything clearly. </p><p>Finally, I tripped over something, the pain bent me double, and then, it was gone. I looked down, blood was running down my legs. </p><p>Laura’s screams had stopped. </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>**"Fuckin' Perfect", Pink.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. THE KINNEYS</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p></p><div class="ll-0-1">
  <p>
    <strong><em>**"I understand that I cannot beg you again</em> </strong>
  </p>
</div><div class="ll-0-1">
  <p>
    <strong> <em>But nothing stops, I only live for you</em> </strong>
  </p>
</div><div class="ll-0-3">
  <p>
    <strong> <em>Give me just one kiss that'll stay with me until death</em> </strong>
  </p>
</div><div class="ll-0-4">
  <p>
    <strong> <em>Like a vice that hurts, I want to look you in the eye."</em> </strong>
  </p>
</div><div class="ll-0-5">
  <p> </p>
  <p>I leaned forward on the table, resting my chin on my folded arms. I was unaware of whatever events might be gripping the rest of the world and I hadn’t picked up a book or a magazine in weeks. My life had been reduced to a process of looplike days and repetitive responsibilities performed without any conscious effort. I hadn’t talked to my parents lately and Tom was being distant. At the end of the day, when he returned home, he would eat standing up, anxious to go to bed, reluctant to sit down and talk to me. <em>‘We need a different plan B. I’m working hard to find a better way to bring her to you.’</em> He would tell me before avoiding me for the rest of the evening. I suspected that he was masking his true feelings behind displays of competence and organization and mental effort.</p>
</div><div class="ll-0-5">
  <p>I lifted my head and stared at the plane tickets on the coffee table. A silence emanated from them, a silence so loud it had been keeping me awake at night. They were the only solid proof that this was really happening. On a good day, after I’d been able to sleep six continuous hours, I imagined Laura in a mansion like Professor Xavier’s, surrounded by others like her. When I imagined this scene long enough, it felt almost real. On a bad day I saw her lifeless next to a rocky mountain, somewhere in North Dakota. The worst days were the ones when I saw myself in a psychiatric ward, defeated, unable to provide for her, unable to remember her. Also, I dreaded the idea of leaving Laura in Tom’s hands, it felt as though I was abandoning her again, and even if I knew far too well that I couldn’t see her or touch her or talk to her, there was a certain comfort in knowing that she was only a forty-minute drive from this apartment.</p>
  <p>I needed a clear day, a day so sparkling and new that I dared to be ready. Then, I would hunt this Eden, I would hang on to my hopes, even if they pulled me straight to hell.</p>
  <p>My eyes focused on the wall clock as I rose from the chair. Tom should have been home two hours ago, he always brought news that was both welcome and unsettling. Sometimes it was good news, sometimes it was bad news, but it was better than having no news at all. He’d offered to steal more footage of Laura, but I told him not to. The abuse they were inflicting on her body and mind was something I couldn’t bring myself to see again. I’d kept her picture, though. The evidence of her existence.</p>
  <p>The living room looked out on Masaryk avenue, which was packed with traffic due to the heavy rain. My eyes scanned down the long row of cars, but Tom’s Audi was nowhere to be seen. I could feel my body becoming more restless, I'd never been good at handling suspense. </p>
  <p>
    <em>“Ya, a la mierda.”</em>
  </p>
  <p>I allowed my eyes to wander away from the window, then grabbed my phone and held it to my ear. It rang three times.</p>
  <p>“Hey” Tom finally breathed. “Listen, it’s Friday and it’s raining. I’m stuck in a traffic jam, ok? I reckon I’ll be home in ten minutes.”</p>
  <p>His tone clearly indicated that he was annoyed.</p>
  <p>“Ok. Is everything alright?” I asked warily.</p>
  <p>The loud sound of a horn blasting from one of the cars stuck behind him made him groan. “I’ll be home in ten minutes.” He practically snarled, and then the phone went dead.</p>
  <p>I stupidly blinked for a couple of seconds, dropping my hand. Tom had never spoken to me that way before. Something was deeply wrong.</p>
  <p>Ten minutes became forty. The rain had stopped but Tom wasn’t home yet. I sat on the couch for what felt like hours. I was so quiet, I was keenly aware of my own heartbeat. I tried to occupy my mind with one of Tom’s magazines, but I ended up pushing it aside, unable to concentrate on reading.  I looked nervously at the clock again. If I could only live in the present I might breathe freely.</p>
  <p>'But I hate the present', I thought, as I got up and went to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. This was <em>wrong</em>, all of this was <em>wrong</em>. There was only one explanation for Tom’s strange behavior: something bad had happened.</p>
  <p>I went back to the living room and fished the apartment keys from my bag before hurrying to the front door. I was crossing the short hallway, when, to my great surprise, I found Tom sitting at the top of the stairs, holding a folder in his hands. He met my gaze and for a moment we were unable to move.</p>
  <p>“What happened! Why…I didn’t…what are you…” I spluttered.</p>
  <p>He ignored my question, abruptly standing, and stalked into the apartment.</p>
  <p>“Hey!” I yelled, following him. “What’s going on?”</p>
  <p>Tom plopped down on the couch and slammed the folder down on the coffee table.</p>
  <p>“There, I didn’t know if I should tell you. I took the busiest road on purpose so I could have more time to think, but whatever, open it. You have the right to know.” he spat.</p>
  <p>I rushed forward and grabbed the folder.</p>
  <p>There were several papers inside, including anatomical drawings which reminded me a lot of Leonardo DaVinci’s sketches. I quickly realized some of these documents concerned a research work about rare chemicals and specially designed pieces of electrical testing equipment. The illustrations looked eerie familiar.</p>
  <p>“What’s all this? I don’t understand.” I said through a tilt of my head.</p>
  <p>“It’s…” he stuttered and stopped, then, with a sigh, he crossed to <em>our</em> bedroom and came back after a few moments with a comic book in his hands, flipping nervously through the pages.</p>
  <p>“Here” he said, handing me the comic. It was a picture of Wolverine inside a glass tank, he was attached to thick tubes and surrounded by huge needles. It had taken me months to get this particular issue due to its popularity. Any X-Men fan knew this story.</p>
  <p>I crouched in front of the coffee table, setting down the comic and the drawings to compare them. Yes, it was the same tank, the same needles, the same machine. <em>Adamantium.</em></p>
  <p>My stomach suddenly felt like it was full of sharp knives. My body stilled, came to a halt. I was nauseated.</p>
  <p>“Why are you showing me this?” I managed, although I already knew the answer.</p>
  <p>He searched my face for something before opening his mouth to speak. “They’re going to do it to Laura, we’ll have a meeting tomorrow to discuss it.”</p>
  <p>“No!” I shouted into his face. “No! You can’t let them, you can’t! She’ll die!”</p>
  <p>He shook his head. “No, she won’t.”</p>
  <p>“She <em>won’t?”</em> I shot back, before pointing feverishly at the colorful page. “According to this, Logan almost died out of pain, and he was a fucking grown man! Laura is only ten!” </p>
  <p>“Listen, they will only coat the claws, not her whole skeleton. She’ll be fine.”</p>
  <p>“How dare you say that!” I retaliated, knowing too well that he was speaking with a reasonableness he did not feel. “<em>Their</em> bodies burn anesthesia in seconds. Laura will be awake!”</p>
  <p>At this, his hands made a despairing motion in the air. “I know and I’m sorry!” he admitted in a shaky voice. “This frightens me too, Sarah. Since I know you, I hate my job. Every morning I wake up feeling guilty and ashamed and miserable. They’re forcing me to do unspeakable things and you’re forcing me to…” he trailed off, letting his arms fall in defeat. “I can’t do this anymore.” Tom breathed. </p>
  <p>I eyed him for a moment. “I don’t know what you’re getting at.”</p>
  <p>He took a deep breath. “Have you ever considered having more children?”</p>
  <p>My mouth dropped open at this.</p>
  <p><em>“What?”</em>  I whispered through narrowed eyes.</p>
  <p>“I mean…we are <em>together.</em>” He swallowed hard, moving to grip my shoulders, there were tears in his eyes. “You have the opportunity to start again. I work for them, I’m partially to blame for all this mess. I’ll make it up to you.” Tom said intently.</p>
  <p>My mouth still hung wide. Something about his words had hit a nerve.</p>
  <p>“You’ll make it up to me?” I finally hissed, shoving his hands off my shoulders, offended that he thought me shallow enough to think like that. “What the hell is wrong with you! <em>How can you EVER REPLACE A CHILD!”</em></p>
  <p>“But that’s not a CHILD!” he suddenly snapped, matching my fury measure for measure. “A child doesn’t kill other people! Children don’t take lives! The whole staff is scared of her: the doctors, the guards, the teachers, everybody! There’s…there’s something evil in her! You should hear the stories they tell about <em>your child!</em> She’s like a vicious animal! A beast!” he ran his fingers through his hair, his expression growing more and more resentful as he glared at me. “She’s a weapon, an experiment! So don’t you ask me to try to stop the procedure because that’s what <em>it</em> was made for!”</p>
  <p>Tom paused, his chest was rising and falling unsteadily as he slowly realized he’d crossed a line. He had not intended to say what he’d said and now he was crushed with remorse. I stared at him calmly, it was not cowardice or weakness I was witnessing here. This man before me was summoning all his reason and logic, all his considerable knowledge of this company, because he was in a deep panic. How could he know what I was going through? What it was like to be a parent? How could he love this strange girl he didn’t know? He didn’t carry her inside him, he didn’t give birth to her, she was not part of him in any way. I recalled all his efforts, all his small gestures, how strong and intelligent he looked in his lab coat. A man can’t be strong all the time.</p>
  <p>“I’m sorry” his voice broke. He was taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself. The expression of anguish and pain on his face was unnerving.</p>
  <p>“I considered replacing her too.” I confessed, and he looked at me then.</p>
  <p>“What?” he whispered.</p>
  <p>“And I once thought of her as an experiment. I didn’t always love her. I didn’t want to be a mother. I was afraid too” I said quietly, as memories reached my brain as a scent. <em>A newborn face covered in blood and glop, her skin a bluish tint. My brain stumbling at her surprising frailness, at her silence. I was unworthy of her, I had no right to bring her into this world.</em></p>
  <p>“You were only a child” Tom answered softly, studying my face. The close proximity of our bodies was awkward and uncomfortable, as if we were discovering a new degree of mutual intolerance.</p>
  <p>“That’s the whole point.” I began “I’m not a child anymore, I’m a grown woman. And Laura’s not a manufactured embryo in a test tube anymore, she is a person. That little girl is my daughter, and I am <em>her</em> mother. I did not gain that honor by simply shooting her out of my body. I'm showing up. That's it. I'm not perfect, I'm far from perfect, but I'm showing up and that makes me her mother. So, please…” I trailed off, closing my eyes for a moment. “Don’t let them hurt her. Her body might make it through, but her mind won’t. Help me protect her. I don’t want to lose her again, please.”</p>
  <p>I knew I was being unfair, Tom didn’t have the authority to make medical decisions on behalf of the children. I was once again demanding the impossible.</p>
  <p>In response, he gave me a little nod and then sat down on the edge of the couch. Seeing him like this unsettled me. “I’ll help her, but you have to understand something” he muttered carefully after a moment. “I cannot change their minds. I can only persuade them to perform the operation in a different way”</p>
  <p>I found myself nodding helplessly.</p>
  <p>“Thank you” I mumbled, my voice trembling, it sounded nothing like me. <em>Adamantium. </em>I couldn’t get the word out of my head. Nobody, not even Tom could save Laura from her father’s curse.</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>I made some tea. I couldn’t let Tom crack under the stress of the circumstances. It was dinnertime and he was still seated on the sofa, his gaze fixed on the screen of his laptop and his fingers flying impatiently over the keyboard. I settled the tray down on the coffee table and took the seat in front of him before reaching for one cup.</p>
  <p>“I could use a strong drink” he said, casting a quick glance at the tray.</p>
  <p>“More problems?” I inquired, taking a sip of my tea.</p>
  <p>He nodded. “Remember the new project I told you about?”</p>
  <p>“Yes”</p>
  <p>“I don’t know yet what they have in mind, but they’re asking my department to analyze Logan’s DNA samples… and collect some from Laura”</p>
  <p>“What for? Why does everything in that place have to be about Logan and Laura?” I asked, irritated.</p>
  <p>“Because their healing factor holds the key to creating the perfect living weapon. Alkali has always been obsessed with it.” he murmured, never taking his eyes off the screen.</p>
  <p>“Is that what they’re working on?” I asked.</p>
  <p>“I don’t know. I hate not knowing. This is so frustrating. We are geneticists, not an embryo store.”</p>
  <p>“You think they’ll hurt her?” I blurted out.  </p>
  <p>He looked up at me then and gave me a sad, little smile. “No, no. They won’t hurt her, they just need a blood sample.”</p>
  <p>I looked back at Tom thoughtfully, he was exhausted. He’d done too much today. Even if he had his reservations about our plan, he was sacrificing everything he’d worked for to help us, to do the right thing. Seeing the dark circles under his eyes and the way he massaged the back of his neck every few seconds made me realize that we were both neglecting ourselves. Our bodies needed food and sleep and human contact in order to endure this ordeal. <em>Looking after myself and maintaining some normalcy in my life was not abandonment of my child.</em></p>
  <p>I put my cup back on the tray and got up, then I sat by him on the sofa, snuggling up close to his right side.</p>
  <p>He immediately paused what he was doing and gave me a confused look. “What are you doing?”</p>
  <p>“Put it away” I said, gesturing to the laptop, and at this, his eyes narrowed a bit in suspicion.</p>
  <p>“Why?” he asked.</p>
  <p>“Please” I whispered into his ear.</p>
  <p>He shivered, and before he could react, I put the laptop aside and straddled his hips. I kissed him, undoing his belt. He instinctively pulled me closer and I pressed myself hard against him. We both shuddered with pleasure.</p>
  <p>“I…I don’t know if …” Tom hesitated, making the interesting discovery that I was only wearing panties under my oversized t-shirt.</p>
  <p>“We haven’t done this in a while” I breathed, rocking my hips.</p>
  <p>“But…I have to figure out how to... It’s not that I don’t want to…” he struggled to say, trembling with need.</p>
  <p>“Shhh. I know. It’s ok. Humor me.” I raised my hips and pushed my panties aside before guiding him in. We let out a sigh and our brains shut down.</p>
  <p>Half an hour later Tom was working in his little office, trying to find a way to help Laura, and I was sitting on the bed, feeling a bit disoriented. <em>God</em>, it had been good sex. The sharp strike of our orgasms had taken away most of the stress. It had been quick, and hot, and sweet. But not special. Not like it used to be. Tom’s doubts had lingered in the air the whole time and, to be honest, so had mine.</p>
  <p>The daughter I did not have was constantly between us. Every time he handed me my birth control pills, every time we went out and saw couples with kids, every time he forgot to take off his badge and caught me staring at it, Laura’s absence was a fact we could neither mention nor ignore. The only conversations we had were about Transigen. More often than not, I could not receive comfort. He would listen attentively to the few stories I had of Laura and afterward insinuate that I had to prepare for the fact that my life must go on without my daughter. We were both afraid of commitment because of her. Tom clearly wasn’t prepared to act as a father figure to a girl like Laura, and I didn’t want him to, anyway. I didn’t want him or anyone to interfere with my parenting, which was going to be more challenging than normal.</p>
  <p>I sighed heavily. Guiding her through life wasn’t going to be easy. I could walk her through the girl stuff, make her feel loved, boost her self-esteem, teach her some life lessons even…<em>but what about her mutanthood?</em> There were many things I wouldn’t be able to help Laura with, my good intentions wouldn’t be enough sometimes. She’d often feel lonely and misunderstood.</p>
  <p>
    <em>You're being selfish. Her father is alive…and he is a mutant…you should… </em>
  </p>
  <p>“No” I heard myself say. “She stays with me”</p>
  <p>I stalked to the bathroom and ran the water into the large tub. And as I peeled off my shirt, I tried to chase away the annoying voices inside my head, although I knew that once a thought entered my mind, it became difficult to shake off.</p>
  <p>+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++</p>
  <p>It was real early when Tom woke me up to give me the good news. After spending all night in his office, he’d come up with a very simple, but amazing solution: they could extract Laura’s claws, coat them with adamantium and then put them back in.</p>
  <p>“But she’ll still be awake, and she heals in seconds. How will you…?” I began, before he cut me off.</p>
  <p>“The mutant cure” he replied. “Have you ever heard of it?”</p>
  <p>“Yes, of course, but that’s not what I--” I muttered worriedly.</p>
  <p>“There’s an improved version that we can use to inhibit her healing factor for a few hours.” he said enthusiastically, his eyes widening a bit. “I just need to run a few tests, see if it’s safe for young children and determine the correct dose. If it turns out to be safe, Laura’s body will be able to get general anesthesia. She won’t be awake”</p>
  <p>I threw my arms around him. I couldn’t thank him enough. I was beaming.</p>
  <p>After enjoying a quick breakfast, we showered and dressed. He placed a kiss on my forehead and dashed out the door with his hands full of files, he didn’t want to be late for the meeting concerning Laura’s surgery.</p>
  <p>I was in the kitchen, about to wash the dishes, when I received a call. It was Alma. My fake documents were ready.</p>
  <p>“Are you sure?” I asked the woman, looking at the address I’d just written down.</p>
  <p>“Yes, <em>mi amor.</em> That’s where you have to meet them” she replied.</p>
  <p>“Oh..ok” I stammered. I had to meet the document forgers in an hour at Garden Santa Fe, an <em>underground </em>shopping mall. The meeting point surprised me, I was expecting some dangerous, poor neighborhood, and not Mexico City’s most modern district. And if I was being honest with myself, I preferred the former, any <em>underground</em> places made my heart rate jump up.</p>
  <p>“Is everything ok?” Alma inquired, noticing my hesitation. </p>
  <p>“Yes.” I said, clearing my throat. “Thank you for calling these people for me, you saved me.”</p>
  <p>“I’m always here for you, <em>mi niña.</em>” Alma muttered sweetly. “Take care, <em>sí?”</em></p>
  <p><em>“Sí”</em> I said simply.</p>
  <p>As soon as we ended the call, I let out a heavy sigh. Thankfully, Tom had left his car. He hadn’t slept a wink last night and was afraid of having an accident, so, instead, he’d requested an uber.</p>
  <p>It wasn’t a very long drive, but it felt like it. I couldn’t pay attention to where I was driving, and when I finally arrived at the spaceship-like mall, I struggled to pull myself up and out of the car. Anxiety had left me numb.</p>
  <p>Garden Santa Fe is, by no means, a dungeon. Sunlight comes in from all sides and there are live trees situated at the bottom, but for me, being trapped behind skylights was triggering. The large glass sinkholes reminded me of that circular room where Laura had stabbed Dr. Enberg.</p>
  <p>The feeling of claustrophobia was becoming so unbearable that as soon as the tall, rich-looking man in a gray suit handed me the manila envelope, I shook his hand and walked out of there. I stupidly didn’t even verify if they’d filled in our information correctly.</p>
  <p>The elevator doors opened and I made my way across the underground parking garage to Tom’s Audi. Slowly, I drove the car over to the exit and as soon as the security grid opened up just high enough for my car’s roof to clear, I recklessly accelerated. Once in the outer world I parked the car about twenty feet from an ice-cream shop to look over the contents of the envelope.</p>
  <p>I took out one of the passports, holding myself perfectly still as I focused on the picture Tom had provided for this purpose. This time, Laura’s expressive eyes were looking at the camera.</p>
  <p><strong>Apellidos/Surname/Nom: </strong>KINNEY</p>
  <p><strong>Nombres/Given names/Prénoms: </strong>LAURA</p>
  <p><em>Laura Kinney</em> I muttered to myself, frowning a bit at the name. It was kind of unfair to her biological father, but until Transigen was completely out of our lives, Laura couldn't have his surname or even claim her Canadian citizenship. For now, we would have to be the Kinney family.</p>
  <p>As I checked the birth certificates and other identity documents, the anxiety began to subside. This new name was giving me the freedom I hadn’t had in years. I would no longer have to use my mother's credit cards or carry around large amounts of cash. I could now prove I wasn’t that missing teenager if someone happened to recognize me on the street. I could now leave the country, and most importantly, these documents established the relationship of mother and child. <em>Laura was officially mine.</em></p>
  <p>I shook my head silently, truly regretting not doing this before.</p>
  <p>With the paranoia out of the way, I started the engine and drove to the largest library in the city. My research wasn’t over, I had to find more information as to why mutants had suddenly vanished. Also, I was hoping to find a hidden message or a clue in one of the books, something left by persecuted mutants in the country. When you stand up against Transigen, you certainly need all the help you can get.</p>
  <p>The library was futuristic, dazzling, and gorgeous. It housed thousands of books in exquisite structures that appeared to float above the grand lobby, but in spite of looking like it had been taken out of a Sci-Fi novel, the library didn’t have much information about mutants. This place, like the rest of the world, was pretending they had never existed.</p>
  <p>One of the librarians took pity on me and gave me a couple of old newspaper articles about the declining mutant birth rates across the globe.</p>
  <p>“Take them” The kind librarian had said “Or they’ll end up in the trash.”</p>
  <p>Deeply disappointed, I headed to the car once more. I was terribly hungry, it was almost 5pm and I hadn’t eaten anything yet. As Tom’s Audi made its way into Paseo de la Reforma, I took a moment to clear my mind and appreciate my new-found freedom. Maybe in a not too distant future I would be driving my own car with Laura in the back seat telling me all about her day, her dreams, her worries.</p>
  <p>I gave myself a quick look in the rear-view mirror and chuckled, shaking my head a bit. I looked too young to be the mother of a ten-year-old girl. People would definitely assume we were sisters, and I couldn’t wait to see their reaction when Laura called me<em> mamá</em>.</p>
  <p>I pulled up in front of Reforma 222, an open air mall, and climbed out of the car before handing the keys to the valet parking attendant. I walked past the nice water decoration with rocks and went into the first restaurant I saw. It had been so long since I’d allowed myself to have a meal outdoors. It was nice to see people around me, men and women in suits, children with their parents, young lovers, teenagers. The murmur of voices in the background reminded me that life carries on. I was even enjoying the lame coffee they’d served me.</p>
  <p>A persistent sound interrupted my thoughts. I fumbled with the purse’s clasp and pulled out my phone, suddenly remembering a particularly important matter.</p>
  <p>“Tom?” I answered, anxiously. “Did they agree to extract the claws?”</p>
  <p>And just as Tom was answering my question, the waitress appeared out of nowhere and, like a vulture, snatched up the empty plate in front of me before asking, <em>“¿Necesita algo más?”</em></p>
  <p><em>“¡No, gracias!”</em> I snapped, whipping my head in her direction. The young woman shot me a bewildered look and walked away, murmuring something I didn’t catch. I would have to apologize later. “Sorry, the waitress came and…whatever. What did they say?” I urged Tom.</p>
  <p>“They said yes, sweetheart” he said, and I automatically breathed a sigh of relief. “Laura won’t suffer during the surgery. They’ll even help me calculate the appropriate dose of the drug”</p>
  <p>“Really?” I asked through wide eyes. My joy was so contagious that even the couple in front of me smiled when our gazes met.</p>
  <p>“Yes, really. I’ll be home in two hours. How about you?”</p>
  <p>“I’m at Reforma 222, if the traffic isn’t that heavy, I should be home in time for dinner.” I replied, looking at my watch. “By the way, I have the documents.”</p>
  <p>“Do you?”</p>
  <p>“Yep”</p>
  <p>“That’s wonderful, it must be our lucky day.” Tom said “You know what? Fuck this paperwork, I’ll be home in forty minutes with a peperoni pizza and a bottle of wine.”</p>
  <p>My eyebrows shot up in disbelief. I never thought that saving Laura from harm would fire Tom’s enthusiasm.</p>
  <p>“<em>Muy bien</em>” I smiled a little.</p>
  <p>“Oh! I nearly forgot.” he suddenly added “Get a small rucksack for Laura.”</p>
  <p>I frowned. “A what?”</p>
  <p>“A backpack, a travel bag!” he clarified.</p>
  <p>“What for?” I questioned.</p>
  <p>“I’ll pack some useful stuff in it and keep it in my office, we have to be prepared.”</p>
  <p>“Ah, I see” I mumbled. Tom was right, a travel bag wouldn’t go amiss in case the big day arrived unexpectedly.</p>
  <p>“And Sarah” he went on.</p>
  <p>“Yeah?”</p>
  <p>“I know that you want to give your little girl the prettiest things in the world, but don’t get anything pink or sparkly, get something discreet, practical, and durable. She’s going to be on the run, not going to Disneyland.”</p>
  <p>I smirked at this, he knew me well. As soon as he’d told me to get a backpack for Laura, I’d thought of sequins and unicorns. Ugh, too bad.</p>
  <p>“I know, silly.” I said playfully, rolling my eyes. “And hopefully, she won’t have to be on the run. See you later”</p>
  <p>I put the phone back into my purse and finished my coffee. After apologizing to the waitress and tipping her handsomely, I went to the nearest children’s clothing store. One end of it was dominated by beautiful girly dresses, pink shirts, ballerina shoes, sparkly jackets, woolen coats; the other by khaki pants, casual shirts, little loafers, and all kinds of miniature versions of men clothing. I’d just taken two steps inside and I was already having a hard time fighting the urge to get some of these things for Laura, <em>even if she wasn’t going to Disneyland</em>. My kid was just too beautiful to be wearing those grey pants and white clothes all the time.</p>
  <p>Because it was almost evening, the shop was empty, except for the cashier and the one assistant deftly folding cute little skirts. With my jacket folded over my arm, I paced the length of the shop and in less than a minute I’d spotted what I was looking for: a rack full of canvas backpacks.</p>
  <p>I paused in front of it and looked at them, trying to make a safe choice, wondering if Laura was an adventurer or an animal lover or a daydreamer, when a woman about my age walked in with a mischievous-looking toddler. Her mom set her carefully on her feet and the little girl immediately ran toward the same rack I was standing by and grabbed a sky-blue backpack, smiling up at me.</p>
  <p><em>“Esta me gusta.”</em> she said, holding up the bag.</p>
  <p>I smiled back at her fondly, she was a petite thing with brown eyes and rosy lips, her dark hair was held up in two cute pigtails.</p>
  <p><em>“Es muy bonita.” </em>I replied, giving her all my attention. It was then that I heard a sigh behind the girl. I looked up, her mother was shaking her head.</p>
  <p><em>“Laura, deja en paz a la chica.”</em> The woman said with affectionate despair as she picked up her daughter. <em>“Perdón”</em> she apologized, giving me a smile.</p>
  <p>
    <em>Laura… </em>
  </p>
  <p>For one half second, I remembered the awful moment when I had begged a scared nurse to give my daughter a real name. I stood there, barely blinking. The girl was giggling in her mother’s arms, admiring her new accessory as they headed towards the shoe section.</p>
  <p>Barely prepared for these triggers and the wave of grief they brought, I pulled a green backpack off the rack and paid for it before rushing to the parking garage. In less than ten minutes I was restlessly driving back into Polanco.</p>
  <p>+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++</p>
  <p>The smell of the pizza was making me salivate. There was a wild enthusiasm in the air, and as I took a long pull of the wine, which was a bit warm for standing out so long, I watched Tom add the last cherry tomatoes to the salad. He was obsessed with cooking and always found a reason to do it, even when we ordered pizza.</p>
  <p>“What did you think about the articles?” I asked, leaning on the wall. He’d taken a moment to read them while I was washing my face and changing into my pajamas. “You think the government put something in the water in order to wipe out the mutant population?”</p>
  <p>“It was actually Alkali, but maybe the government had something to do with it, I don’t know.” he said from his place behind the counter, barely shrugging his shoulders.</p>
  <p>“Alkali?” I asked, unable to stop myself from wincing.</p>
  <p>“Yep. That was one of the first <em>secrets</em> I learned when I began to work for Transigen. Alkali put chemicals in mass produced foods such as corn syrup, bread, all that stuff, to suppress the X-gene in people.”</p>
  <p>“So they could engineer their own mutants and sell them as weapons.” I murmured, finally putting the pieces together.</p>
  <p>“Exactly. They used carefully selected women to carry the children and…” he quickly brought his eyes to me, suddenly remembering who he was talking to. “…you know. I mean…” I gave him a face and he cleared his throat, pouring more olive oil on the salad before continuing on. “They expose the children to radiation from an early age to activate the mutant gene so they can start their training. I almost threw up when one of my colleagues showed me some footage on my first week at Transigen: a boy burning a man alive with his powers. That’s why I don’t like watching those videos<em>.”</em> he added through a frown. “I tried to quit, of course, but it was too late, they knew everything about me. These people blackmail you in subtle ways, they never openly tell you that they’re willing to harm your family or destroy your career if you don’t cooperate, but it’s more than obvious that they would.”</p>
  <p>He walked over to the table and placed the salad, the pizza, and two plates on it before motioning me to take a seat. I reluctantly took up his offer. I’d told myself that I was hungry, but now food was the last thing on my mind.</p>
  <p>“I’m sorry about all this.” I began, an odd quiver of guilt shooting through me. “I never meant to put you in danger…”</p>
  <p>“It’s fine” he cut me off, taking a bite of the peperoni pizza. “Don’t apologize. I agreed to help you because I can’t go on living like this. It’s not who I am. I don’t want them to use my knowledge against innocent people anymore.” he said, guilt blossoming on his features, even as he poured himself a glass of wine. “I’m doing this because I want to. In fact, Laura won’t be the only child we’re going to save. I’m sure we’ll manage to get the rest of the children out as well.”</p>
  <p>I found myself smiling a at this.</p>
  <p>“Why don’t you take the articles and put them in Laura’s backpack?” I suggested “A bit of information about mutant history won’t harm her. Laura belongs to more than one minority group, and unless she comes to terms with reality and herself, she’ll never be able to deal with stereotypes.”</p>
  <p>“That’s true.” he agreed, eating steadily. </p>
  <p>I remained silent as I let my gaze drop to my untouched food.</p>
  <p>“What?” Tom inquired, trying to catch my eyes as he put another slice of pizza on his plate.</p>
  <p>“Can Laura even read?” I inquired suddenly, looking up at him. I’d seen how much she was enjoying that book Gabriela was reading to her, but it was impossible to know if she was reading the words as well or just looking at the pictures.</p>
  <p>“She can.” Tom replied with confidence. “Nurse Valeria has been telling me some innocent details about the children. She trusts me that much now."</p>
  <p>“And what kind of <em>innocent details</em> are those?” I asked, crossing my arms across my chest, mildly upset that he hadn’t told me before.</p>
  <p>“Well” he began, looking at his salad. “The children can read and write…do maths… stuff like that.” he shrugged.</p>
  <p>I was starting at him, something about the word “detail” was making me uncomfortable. I was overlooking an important <em>detail</em>.</p>
  <p>“Something was missing.” I finally muttered to myself.</p>
  <p>Tom blinked. “Sorry, what?”</p>
  <p>“The footage. All the while something was missing.” I mumbled, meeting Tom’s gaze, he had a deep frown on his face. “Her voice.”</p>
  <p>Laura had screamed and grunted, but she'd never uttered a word, not even when she was being tortured or the consequences of her silence included punishment. Nothing, not a single word.</p>
  <p>“You mean Laura’s voice?” Tom asked.</p>
  <p>I nodded in response and he deliberately took a few moments to push his cherry tomatoes around his plate before answering. “Mmmm….yeah, that. I saw her medical records the other day. She’s a selective mute.”</p>
  <p>I frowned, not liking the term. “A what?”</p>
  <p>“It means that she can speak, but in front of most people she doesn’t.” Tom began, moving his gaze upward. “Instead, she resorts to gestures and noises to communicate. Laura is well-known among the staff for her <em>sharp screams</em>.” he muttered the last words under his breath.</p>
  <p>“Why is she behaving like that?” I asked, pushing my plate aside before propping my elbows on the table, leaning closer to him.</p>
  <p>“She’s not doing it on purpose. It’s a rare psychiatric condition often mistaken for extreme shyness, stubbornness, and other things. I guess it can be dangerous for normal children because it prevents them from asking for help when they need it, but Laura is not a helpless child, so don’t worry.” Tom said nonchalantly behind his cup of wine.</p>
  <p>“Excuse me?” I asked, raising my eyebrows in indignation. </p>
  <p>“I mean…it’s not like she’ll ever need to yell, <em>‘Help me, please, this stranger is trying to take me away!’ </em>…that kind of thing, you know…” he attempted to clarify, taking a sip of his drink.</p>
  <p>“No, I don’t.” I said curtly. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”</p>
  <p>At this, he gave an exasperated sigh, setting down his glass. “Because Dr. Rice and his team don’t give too much importance to it. Most children eventually grow out of it, it’s not a big deal.”</p>
  <p>I abruptly stood up and picked up my plate before stalking over to the sink.</p>
  <p>“Hey, calm down!” he snapped, looking up at me from his chair. “What the hell is wrong with you?”</p>
  <p>I narrowed my eyes and quickly turned back around.</p>
  <p>
    <em>“¡Y cómo quieres que me calme si me acabas de decir que tal vez mi hija no podrá hablar conmigo, si todo lo que dicen ellos es la absoluta verdad para ti. ¡Piensas como ellos! ¡Eres igual que ellos!” </em>
  </p>
  <p>“That’s not fair.” Tom mumbled, evidently hurt by my words.</p>
  <p><em>“Cabrones”</em> I muttered under my breath before striding off into his bedroom to retrieve some of my clothes and bathroom bag.</p>
  <p>“Where are you going?” he asked when I walked back into the living room.</p>
  <p>“To bed.” I grumbled.</p>
  <p>“Please, you don’t have to stay in the guest room.” he said calmly.</p>
  <p>“I want to be alone.” I replied, closing the door behind me.</p>
  <p>I brushed my teeth and flipped off the lights before crawling into the large bed. I inhaled and exhaled, mastering my frustration. I didn’t want to cry, but angry tears were beginning to blur my vision, so I held my breath in order to contain them. It wasn’t Tom’s fault, I knew exactly where the blame lay and I knew he hadn’t meant to be insensitive. But the constant arguments confirmed that our problems were separate, limited, incommunicable; they clarified the absolute, bitter truth: Laura had set us on separate paths. There was nothing to be shared.</p>
  <p>I pulled the luxurious quilt over my shoulders, listening to the rain as it turned to a quieter drizzle. I missed my mom, I wished I could call her and tell her about Laura. She would understand what I was going through. She was always prepared to listen, to offer comfort. I often regretted letting her lose her place in my story.</p>
  <p>I sighed. For now, I would have to take solace in imagining the very reunion that was constantly parading in front of me. The fantasy that washed over me most effectively when I was alone, or when I was tired, or waking from deep sleep.</p>
  <p>
    <em>'Do you know who I am? No? You’ve forgotten, but it’s ok. I am your mother. You are my daughter, you are mine. I’m here to take you home.’</em>
  </p>
  <p>The door cracked open, interrupting my meditation.</p>
  <p>“May I come in?” Tom murmured softly.</p>
  <p>I barely shrugged in response.</p>
  <p>He hesitated in the doorway and then moved to sit on the edge of the mattress next to me. I tensed, waiting for him to say the first word.</p>
  <p>“I was such a dick earlier” he whispered after a while. “Laura’s problem is serious and they shouldn’t wait for her to grow out of it. I’m sorry.” I slowly rolled on my side to look at him. He did look sorry. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Tom added in a low voice.</p>
  <p>“I know.” I was quick to reply, but then I took a deep breath and sat up. “But this isn’t working.”</p>
  <p>“What do you mean?” he frowned a bit.</p>
  <p>“I mean <em>us</em>.” Nothing but silence greeted my words, so I kept talking. “Neither of us has done anything wrong, but we’re not on the same page, so maybe we should move it in another direction.”</p>
  <p>Tom dropped his gaze before nodding his head in agreement, and for a few moments he sat silently, enveloped in his thoughts.</p>
  <p>“It’s very hard for me to change the way I see these children.” he finally whispered, there was a note of frustration in his voice. “I mean, they brainwash us into thinking that they’re not people. Transigen uses dehumanization to justify abuse. I guess that’s why they never send us underground. Dr. Rice would surely face a rebellion by some members of his team if they saw that these kids are as human as any other.” He said vehemently, and I smiled in the darkness. I knew how it felt to fight that inner conflict. “I’m working very hard to change the way I think. I swear I am.”</p>
  <p>I couldn’t see his face clearly in the dark, but his voice was heavy with guilt and concern.</p>
  <p>“I don’t hold you responsible in any way for Laura’s ordeal” I sighed “You’re a good person. I’m sorry I said those nasty things.” I muttered, throwing my arms around him. Tom was frozen for a second, and then he hugged me back, seeking the comfort of my embrace. We stayed like that for a long time.</p>
  <p>“If it makes you feel better, I only understood half of it.” He laughed without humor. I pulled away slowly and he smiled, holding my hands. “I’ll let you sleep know.” he murmured, releasing me, as he rose silently and walked to the door. He was about to close it when I spoke again.</p>
  <p>“Tom?” I asked.</p>
  <p>“Mmm?”</p>
  <p>“Will my daughter talk to me?”</p>
  <p>He stood on the threshold, pondering my question. “Nobody knows that.” he said at last. “Every child has their own rules for who they can and can’t speak to. Experts are as baffled as you.”</p>
  <p>I nodded my head in understanding and then looked down, feeling heavyhearted.</p>
  <p>“Hey” he added, and I looked up at him then. “You’ll soon find out.” </p>
  <p>"I know" I replied quietly. "I'm leaving for North Dakota tomorrow." </p>
  <p> </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>**"Luna", Zoé.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. THE BIG ROCK CANDY MOUNTAINS</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <em>**"It weighs heavier on one's heart</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>I could tell right from the start that sweet ones are hard to come across</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Well, there is more than meets the eye</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>A heart like yours is rare to find</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Someone else's gain will be my loss"</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>The trip to the airport was surprisingly fast. I was shifting nervously in my seat as the taxi driver pulled over in front of terminal 2. Every atom in my body seemed to know what was coming. One of the hardest parts of leaving the country was having to lie to my parents. I’d made them think I was going to Canada to finish my studies.</p><p>My mom had cried. My dad had wished me good luck. Their voices had been muted, though their words had been cheerful enough. It had been partly because I was moving again, as I had so many times in ten years; and partly because I had not asked for their opinion or advice before buying the plane tickets. Whatever the cause, it would remain unspoken. At this point, we were practically strangers. And it was my fault.</p><p>The sun continued to climb, promising a warm, bright, and clear day. The driver helped me take my luggage out of the trunk, although it was only a carry-on suitcase.</p><p><em>“Gracias”</em> I smiled, before entering the airport.</p><p>I hadn’t been here in years, it was huge, endless. After taking a wrong turn and having two cups of coffee at one of the many cafés, I was finally buckled up in my seat, waiting for the plane to take off.</p><p>Thankfully, it wasn’t the holiday season and not many people were traveling to North Dakota, in fact, I had the entire row of seats for myself. The man in front of me was kindly moving across to let a boy have the window seat so he could wave goodbye to his parents. It was tempting to look out the window and see the couple several yards from the wing, smiling and waving hard at their son, but if I did, I would end up pressing my face against the window and crying. Instead, I took a travel magazine from the pocket of the seat in front of me and began to read. I was starting to get interested in one of the <em>José Cuervo</em> distillery tours in the town of Tequila when my phone beeped loudly, startling me.</p><p>“Hey, I’m already on the plane” I said, holding the phone to my ear. “I got hooked on a magazine and forgot to call you but everything’s--”</p><p>“Something happened” Tom cut me off. He was panting “Two things happened, actually.”</p><p>I shifted in my seat, letting the magazine slip from my legs.</p><p>“What is it? What happened? Is Laura ok?” I blurted out as panic began to rise up inside me.</p><p>“She’s fine. It’s just that… I… I found out a few minutes ago what this <em>new</em> experiment is about.” Tom barely managed. His voice was becoming a lot more agitated and nervous. “They…they’re starting a new program: X-24.”</p><p>“So?” I asked, relaxing my tense muscles a bit. I didn’t see anything wrong with it, Tom had said many times that they were constantly working on new experiments.</p><p>“Can't you see?” he growled, exasperated. “The children are program X-23. Transigen is planning to <em>replace</em> them! Dr. Rice asked us to create a new weapon: X-24.”</p><p>I felt my panic rear up as my mind quickly connected the dots. Dr. Rice had finally realized that he’d made a mistake by using human babies. I myself had come to that conclusion long ago when I’d first seen Laura’s file. I felt a twinge of anger cut through my panic and slammed my fist against the window. <em>How did I not see this coming? It was so obvious! God fucking damnit. </em>It’s not like they were going to open the fucking gates and let everybody walk away. If the new weapon turned out to be a success, they were going to get rid of the children like they got rid of their mothers.</p><p>
  <em>The dark cell… the white van… the traffickers…</em>
</p><p>No. Not my child.</p><p>“How much time do we have?” I demanded, pushing my fears for Laura’s well-being and life aside, as if not entertaining them made them less possible.</p><p>“I don’t know…weeks, probably, even months.” he swallowed, steadying his breath. “Don’t panic, ok? Get to North Dakota and find Eden. Hopefully, some of the mutants there will be willing to help us. All we can do now is trust that this place is real.”</p><p>He was still very agitated. Something was telling me that he knew more than he was letting on. The situation was a lot worse.</p><p>“No” I said in a flat voice.</p><p>“Sorry?” Tom asked, confused.</p><p>“No” I repeated. “I’m not going to take any risks. Go home and get a plain cardboard box. You’re going to leave it at Gabriela’s door.”</p><p><em>“What?” </em>he protested. “No! I never agreed to that plan, that nurse is not going to—"</p><p>“Listen to me!” I shouted. “I need you to stop lecturing me about the proper way to cope with my loss, the proper way to mourn, the proper way to read people, the proper way to love and protect my daughter! Who are you to lay down rules about that? I just need you to trust me…just…trust me.” At the same time a loud voice coming from the speakers announced that the plane would take off in a few moments. “<em>Mierda” </em>I muttered to myself “I don’t have much time, so don’t talk until I’m finished, ok?”</p><p>“Ok” he answered calmly.</p><p>“Great. Get a pen and a piece of paper, you’re going to follow my instructions.”</p><p>I heard noises in the background: desk drawers being pulled, objects getting knocked down, Tom cursing. “Ok, I’m ready.” he finally said.</p><p>“Remember the <em>Eden</em> comic book, the one I showed you the day you asked me to move in with you?”</p><p>“Yeah” he answered. </p><p>“Fine. You’re going to place a sticky note on the last page with the words SAVE THEM. SAVE HER”</p><p>“That’s all? You’re not planning to tell Gabriela who you are?” he interrupted.</p><p>“No, we’re not planting evidence on her. The less she knows, the safer she will be. Gabriela doesn’t need to know that I survived or that you are helping me --not yet. Besides, I asked you to let me finish.” I reminded him.</p><p>“Right, go on.”</p><p>“I left two yellow envelopes full of money in the guest room closet, put them in the box as well, then get the com...” A strange presence standing next to me interrupted my train of thought.</p><p>“<em>Señorita</em>” the flight attendant said through a fake smile. “You need to put your phone on airplane mode.”</p><p>“Sure, just one second.” I replied, looking up at her. She nodded and walked away, though there was a note of irritation in her demeanor.</p><p>“Sorry about that. Where was I?” I sighed in frustration, turning my attention back to Tom. “Oh, yes! Throw five or four comic books in the box and put the rest in Laura’s backpack --those are for her.”  </p><p>“Ok.”</p><p>“I left a notebook on my bedside table. There’s a web address, the document forgers’ phone number, and the car dealership address scribbled on the first page. Tear it, tear the page out of the notebook”</p><p>“Absolutely” he answered.</p><p>“Ok, you’re going to write<em> ‘CAR. TAKE IT WHEN THE TIME COMES’ </em>next to the dealership address” Tom was muttering the words to himself, so I gave him a few seconds.</p><p>“You got it?”</p><p>“Yes”</p><p>“Good. Then, write the word <em>‘VISAS’ </em>next to the phone number<em>.</em>”</p><p>“Ok, perfect”</p><p>I let out a sigh, closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. “And finally, next to the web address write the words <em>‘FIND HIM</em>”</p><p>There was a silence, he'd suddenly stopped scribbling. “Find him? Find who?” Tom asked, confused.</p><p>The flight attendant was back and this time she made no attempt to mask her irritation. “<em>Señorita</em>…”</p><p>“I know, just a second!” I snapped, running a shaky hand through my hair. “Tom, just write down the fucking words!” Some of the other passengers turned their heads to me, obviously appalled.</p><p>“I already did! But who are you talking about? Who does Gabriela have to find?” Tom asked once more as the flight attendant shook her head and turned around.</p><p>A lump closed my throat.</p><p>"Sarah! Who does she have to find?" Tom pressed, growing more restless. </p><p>“Logan.” I choked out. “I’m handing Laura over to her father.”</p><p>“<em>What! </em>” Tom exclaimed loudly, but I was already hitting the <em>end call</em> button and turning my watery eyes to the window. <em>There was no going back.</em></p><p>++++++++++++++++++++++++</p><p>I allowed my eyes to wander away from the road and up into the sky. I only had a few hours before it got dark. I was driving a second-hand car along a deserted road, north towards Canada. The road was flanked by nothing but rocky mountains and dirt. The original plan was to stay in a local hotel the first day, but the urgency of the situation demanded that I buy a car and hit the road.</p><p>I’d been driving blindly under the scorching sun for more than five hours, praying that my map reading skills were not as shitty as I thought, especially when I noticed that the landscape was turning more yellow and lonely with each passing minute. Without the wind, the few isolated white clouds high above appeared to be stuck in one place in the sky. It reminded me of the desert background with tall mountains from the Road-runner cartoons.</p><p>I checked my phone. The signal was poor already, and unless I pulled over and called Tom right now, he would never know if I had made it alive.</p><p>“Thank God!” he exhaled. “Why didn’t you call me before? Why did you hang up on me like that? I was worried!” he scolded me before I could even say <em>hi</em>.</p><p>“I know, I’m sorry.” I muttered, phone pressed to my cheek. “I’m in the middle of the road. According to this thing I should be in Eden in three hours. If there is no Eden, I’ll find a hotel and call you so we can make a new plan.”</p><p>“What was that about?” he asked, ignoring my words.</p><p>“Did you deliver the box?” I inquired, ignoring his question in kind.</p><p>“Yes, I did.” he said. I could practically hear Tom closing his eyes in exasperation. “I left it outside her front door an hour ago, just like you asked. I even threw in a new phone. Are you going to tell me now?”</p><p>“Yes, after you tell me the second thing. You said <em>‘two things happened’</em>”</p><p>Instantly, his irritation turned into hesitation. “Yeah, about that…”</p><p>“Don’t stall” I said harshly, wiping away the sweat off my forehead. This place was hotter than hell, and I’d lived in Yucatán for more than a year, so that was something to say.</p><p>“Ok, fine” Tom sighed. “This morning I saw a bunch of doctors wheeling a dead body out of the lift that connects to the underground lab --It wasn’t a child--” he quickly added when I gasped. “I rushed to ask what had happened, and one of the assistants, Rafael, told me that the unfortunate victim was one of the coaches who train the children…he said that <em>X-23</em> had stabbed him to death”</p><p><em>“Jesus”</em> I breathed, closing my eyes for a second as I remembered Laura’s angered response at Dr. Enberg’s attempt to break her arm. “He must have tried to hurt her” I said in a low voice, swallowing hard.</p><p>One of the toughest parts of seeing Laura in the videos was accepting the fact that she was a murderer. It sounded horrible, but it was the plain truth. That my own daughter could do something so horrible was a hard pill to swallow, though it didn’t change the fact that I loved her more than my own life. My only comfort was that she wouldn’t have to take more lives once she was with me. She wouldn’t be a weapon, she would be a kid. I would give her a childhood.</p><p>I clutched the phone tightly for a moment, placing my forehead upon the steering wheel.</p><p>“Are you ok?” Tom’s concerned voice filled the car. “This is why I didn’t want to…”</p><p>“It’s fine, I know that she does this.” I cut him off. “I’ve seen her <em>do it</em> before.” I muttered as I lifted my head off the steering wheel, feeling a bit disoriented.</p><p>“Yeah…” he mumbled, not being able to mask his fear of the girl. I wasn’t offended or anything, if I wasn’t Laura’s mom, I’d be scared of her too. “Yes, well, like I said before, I wasn’t sure if I should tell you about these things, but you are her mother so…” he trailed off. Meanwhile I was pressing my fingertips to my temple to relieve the growing tension.</p><p>“I know. Thank you for telling me.” I replied. </p><p>Neither of us said anything for a moment. My eyes focused in on a wispy white cloud, and, as I continued to stare up at it, I began to sense its gentle therapeutic effect acting upon my strained nerves.</p><p>“Sarah?”</p><p>“Yes?” I asked, still mildly distracted.</p><p>“It’s your turn.” Tom muttered.</p><p>I sighed tiredly at this, before biting my lip slightly. There was no point in stalling.</p><p>“I’d already told you that Logan was alive, but I never told you how I came to know.” I said.</p><p>“Yeah, I was going to ask you about it that night, but we began to argue over trusting Gabriela.” he reminded me.</p><p>“I know.” I muttered, finally tearing my eyes from the sky. “Anyway, I found a fan page ages ago. It was created by hard core <em>Wolverine </em>fans, geeks who are obsessed with him. Every time any of them spots him, they alert the others. But these sightings are extremely rare --I think he’s hiding, just like all the other mutants left on the planet.”</p><p>“Obviously” was all Tom could say.</p><p>“When you suggested that we ask for other mutants’ help I immediately thought of him, but I felt kind of… I don’t know… overwhelmed.” I confessed, terribly mortified. “I mean, I had a baby with this man I’ve never seen in my life. It just didn’t feel fair to find him and tell him about his daughter. <em>Why would I?</em> It was me who had carried her, who was trying to save her. I felt scared, I didn’t want Laura to meet him, because she is, after all, more like him.”</p><p>“Oh, I get it.” Tom said softly.</p><p>“But when you called this morning to tell me that they might get rid of the children…the desperation in your voice… my own memories…It was a wake-up call. I suddenly felt like the mother from <em>The Judgment of King Solomon</em>.” I admitted aloud, feeling my throat tighten. “All my selfishness dissolved, and I knew that no other mutant in the world would be able to protect her like her own father.” Tears began to form at the corners of my eyes as I fought to control my feelings. “He can give her what I can’t, and if Laura chooses to stay with her dad, I’ll let her go. Her safety is all I care about…” I whimpered.</p><p>“Hey, that’s not how it works.” Tom soothed. “You need time to heal, don’t torture yourself like this. She’ll always be yours and no one can change that.” Tom said warmly, and for a moment I smiled. “You’ll come to an agreement with her dad, life isn’t black and white.”</p><p>I gave a little laugh and nodded my head as I wiped the tears from my eyes. “Yeah.”</p><p>There was a long pause before he asked another question. “So you want Gabriela to hand the girl over to him?”</p><p>“Yes.” I murmured, leaning back in the seat and pressing the heel of my hand into my left eye until a kaleidoscope of colors swirled my vision. “According to his fans he’s been living near the Mexican border for a while. Gabriela only has to help Laura cross into the US and then explain to Logan where he has to take her. I mean, it’s fine if he decides to take his daughter somewhere else instead, all I want is for Laura to be protected by him”</p><p>“Right, but who will help Gabriela and Laura to cross Mexico?” he asked, concerned.</p><p>“Nobody. It’s up to you to hold Transigen back for a day or two after the escape. Gabriela is the kind of woman who knows her way around Mexico, we shouldn’t underestimate her.”</p><p>“I know but what if…”</p><p>“She refuses to help?” I asked, a bit annoyed.</p><p>“Well… yes.” he said. </p><p>“We had this conversation before, Tom.” I sighed tiredly. “I would never have considered putting my child in her hands if I hadn’t seen that video. There’s no point in arguing about this again because maybe she won’t even have to run away with Laura. Hopefully, I’ll find other mutants willing to break into the facility and help us get the children out. Gabriela and Logan are our plan B, remember?”</p><p>“Yes, but let’s suppose that we have to resort to it!” he shot back. “What if Gabriela backs down at the last minute? What if the mutants up there don’t want to come and help? <em>What if there’s no Eden?</em> Do you have a plan C? Because, honestly, we’re relying on complete strangers, including Logan.”</p><p>I looked down at my hands. He’d just voiced what we both knew deep down. Escaping from that <em>fucking</em> laboratory was harder than escaping from Alcatraz. I’d almost succeeded that time because someone had left the door open by accident, and if I hadn’t been pregnant with their precious weapon, they would have shot me before I could even reach the glass doors. If the nurses, especially Gabriela, refused to help, the chances of saving these children were almost zero. Not even a powerful mutant like Logan could get inside and fight them all by himself.</p><p>“In that case I’ll ask you to help me sneak into the facility, consequences be damned.” I muttered.</p><p>“Really? Is that you back-up plan?” he said, clearly annoyed.</p><p>“I need to see her.” I replied calmly.</p><p>“Even if it means dying at the hands of your own child?”</p><p>A pause. I could almost hear Tom’s brow crinkling.</p><p>“Yes”</p><p>The late afternoon sun was still brilliant, sweat trickled between my breasts and I wished for a shady tree to rest under. I thought about the different emotions this place was bringing up. I was completely alone, and any sense of hope that I may have been trying to hold on seemed to abandon me. I needed to keep moving forward. The view in front of me was perfect, those mountains were calling me now.</p><p>“I’ve got to go. The sun will set in a couple of hours.” I simply said.</p><p>Tom didn’t question my silence, instead, he pretended we never talked about our last option. “Be safe.” he muttered. “You might not have any signal in the next hours, but I’ll still keep my phone in my pocket at all times.”</p><p>“Thank you, Tom…for everything.” I said softly. “Keep an eye on Laura for me.”</p><p>“I will” he replied, and then ended the call.</p><p>After taking one more look at the breathtaking mountains ahead, I checked the map one more time and started the car. In less than three hours I would finally find out if there was an Eden for the unwanted and the invisible.</p><p>+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++</p><p>The sky was almost dark by the time I arrived at the exact location the coordinates marked. The previous dry heat was slowly being replaced by a mild cold. I turned off the ignition, opened the door and slipped into the dry road, studying my surroundings. My brows furrowed. The landscape looked almost the same as two hours before. If I didn’t have a map, I would have thought I’d been driving in circles. The scene made me uneasy. It was too quiet, too still, but I didn’t have time to do any more reconnaissance.</p><p>I unconsciously kept a watchful eye on my surroundings for any signs of danger as I began to walk forward. It was something that I had grown accustomed to doing ever since the Transigen ordeal. I shielded my eyes from the sun as I looked out across the rocky landscape for any activity. I couldn’t hear or see anything relevant in the area; however, I didn’t feel discouraged, Eden was supposed to be a hiding place, not a motel next to the road.</p><p>“<em>Cálmate, cálmate</em>” I muttered to myself as I lost the car out of sight. I was walking down a dirty trail between two mountains, but there was nothing in front of me other than dry grass and rocks. This far into the mountains the darkness was almost complete. I stopped, my mouth went dry. This was bad, not safe at all. I wasn’t even sure now which way I’d come from and I hadn’t used any landmarks and the sun was beginning to set. </p><p><em>‘At least it looks like in the comic book.’</em> I thought.</p><p>The air was thick and heavy and I was getting stressed. My eyes darted to a bumpy track wound up the side of a huge rock, disappearing into oblivion. The temperature was dropping quickly. I folded my arms across my chest, trying to retain some of my warmth. I narrowed my eyes and strained to see through the dark, but I couldn’t make out the shape of anything. I felt my resolve crumbling as I stopped and turned around.</p><p>It took several tries --and a panic attack-- before I could find the main road again. I opened the driver's door and slid into the leather seat. My heart was racing. Now realizing just how vulnerable I really was while I sat alone in my parked car, I decided to start the engine and hide the vehicle behind a big rock. I was about to turn off the car’s headlights --I would have to spend the night here-- when I caught a glimpse of something on the top of the mountain to my left.</p><p>I frowned, leaning forward, straining to see, and once again forced myself out of the car. I took a few steps and paused at a point where I knew I would have a good view of the rock face. I fished out my phone from my pocket and turned on the flashlight before pointing it to the top of the mountain.</p><p>I saw it straight away. It was a kind of tree house or a small, wooden tower.</p><p>
  <em>Stupid… stupid… of course! </em>
</p><p>I could feel the strangest expression crossing my face. My head swam as I looked at the screen of my phone, it had enough battery to light up the way. Without hesitation, I walked towards the mountain, tested my weight against the first rock, and began the ascent. As I moved upward, I started to notice that the trail to the top was well marked, at some point I even encountered a couple of steps made out of wood. They were practically falling apart.</p><p>The climb up the mountain was much more difficult than I had anticipated. It felt like climbing up that<em> goddamn</em> Pyramid of the Sun at Teotihuacan --an archeological site I was forced to visit every time my parents’ friends spent their holidays in Mexico City-- I had childhood memories of walking up the endless steep flights of stone steps, thinking all the time that I must be close to the top because nobody could be so cruel so as to build so many steps, only to look up for a second and encounter a hundred more ahead. Well, at least it taught me that getting impatient and fussy never makes the climb easier, so you just have to take a deep breath and keep going up. <em>What a metaphor.</em></p><p>And just as I was making a mental note to force Laura to climb the pyramid one day --<em>Why not?-- </em>I realized that the slope was getting less steep. ‘Thank God’, I thought, but when I looked down I was alarmed to find that I was too high up.</p><p><em>“Fuck.” </em>I muttered to myself as I squeezed my eyes for a moment before looking up again. </p><p>I could now see the tree-house clearly, except it wasn’t a tree house. It was more like a mini control tower. With my heart pumping and my legs shaking, I kept pushing upwards. I had to do nothing more than proceed cautiously and not look down.</p><p>Minutes later, I found myself lying face down on the ground, gasping for breath. I had made it. This was the top. The hardest part was over, now I had to stand up. I pushed myself against the ground and straightened, still breathing heavily. There was a lurch in my stomach, but it was nothing too bad. Located just to the left of the control tower, I observed what appeared to be a cabin, maybe a safe house. Even from where I was standing it was obvious that the cabin wasn’t used much, and there wasn’t much to it. This couldn’t be Eden, but I couldn’t help but wonder why such a plain construction had been built so far away from everything and in such a desolate part of North Dakota. What was even more disquieting to me was the question of who had bothered to put this here.</p><p>The cold wind punched me in the chest, and I scolded myself for not having brought a jacket with me. I took short steps, listening for any sounds, especially voices, but the only thing I heard was the sound of wind blowing through the two structures. It was a bad idea for me to be out here alone, so I walked towards the cabin.</p><p>I stood at the door and knocked softly, but nobody answered. I passed a minute waiting, rubbing my legs to make them stop trembling, then I knocked again. Same result. Numb with cold, I palmed the door open and crossed the threshold. The air was thick and musty, and the room black as the night, I’d felt as if I’d walked into a cave. The layout of the cabin was an open-plan square. There was a tiny kitchen on one side and two bunk beds on the other. It was obvious that nobody had been here in months. I held up my phone and turned the flashlight on, there was nothing else to look at.</p><p>Disheartened, I left the safety of the cabin and walked over to the control tower. It had a simple ladder that went up to the platform. Once I reached it, I turned on the flashlight once more, looking towards the horizon. From my vantage point I saw a thick forest stretching out ahead. Trying to see anything through the trees was impossible, but even from an angle high above them, I could see that there were no houses, farms, or any other people in the area. I had been hoping to see another cabin at least.</p><p>I was carefully combing through the narrow space with the flashlight, thinking it would be better to return to Mexico because it was pointless, after all, risking my life, when I found to my left a big electronic equipment, a CB radio with a walkie-talkie attached to it. I bent a little, examining the brown, metallic box. I’d only seen these radios in old movies and I didn’t know how to use them, so I reached for the walkie talkie and held it up, pressing a button.</p><p>The equipment immediately came to life, the noise of the static was growing over my walkie-talkie, as if someone on the other line was tuning the antenna.</p><p>“Hello” said a female voice at last.</p><p>I gave a little cry of surprise, <em>someone was actually replying</em>. I was close to speechless for a couple of seconds, then I finally managed to collect myself.</p><p>“Hello…?” I stammered.</p><p>“Yes, who is this?” The woman asked cautiously.</p><p>“My… my name is Sarah Kinney. I’m looking for <em>Eden</em>.” I replied. There was an edge of desperation in my voice.</p><p>“Right. How did you find us?” she demanded in a flat voice.</p><p>“I saw the exact location in a comic book. Please, I need help.” I begged.</p><p>One chance. That was all I had. My baby’s future was hanging from a thread.</p><p>“It’s ok. If you can answer my next question, you’ve come to the right place. What’s your mutation?”</p><p>Her voice was low, wary, and uncertain. It planted a few seeds of doubt in my mind. What if they were not trying to help mutants, but capture them? However, Laura wasn’t here with me. They couldn’t harm her, and I’d die before telling them where she was if their intentions were not good. This place was our best chance of living freely, so I decided to take the risk.</p><p>“No, I don’t have any.” I admitted. “It’s my daughter who needs help.”</p><p>“How old is she?”</p><p>“Ten.”</p><p>I was almost certain that she was taking notes.</p><p>“What’s her mutation?” she pressed.</p><p>“Uh, she can heal.” I replied simply. I couldn’t tell them about the claws until I made sure it was safe. Her father was way too popular, they would know straight away that she was Wolverine’s child. This was the first time I consciously realized how unique and vulnerable Laura was. Not only would she have to deal with her mutanthood, but also with the unwanted attention from her dad’s fans and the constant comparisons and expectations.  </p><p>“Is she with you?” The woman inquired, she sounded a bit more friendly now.</p><p>“No, I wanted to see the place for myself first.”</p><p>She gave a laugh. “Like all the other mothers.”</p><p>I could help but smile at her comment. It meant I was doing something right.</p><p>“Listen, Sarah.” she continued. “I’m afraid you’ll have to spend the night in the refuge --the cabin behind this little tower-- we’ll send someone to get you tomorrow morning.”</p><p>My body stiffened. I really didn’t want to be all alone in the middle of nowhere. “Can’t you just give me the address? I have a car. I can drive all night if necessary.”</p><p>“Sorry, honey, I can’t. Someone has to pick you up, it’s the rules.” she said in an apologetic tone.</p><p>Of course. They couldn’t give away the real location of Eden. I would have done the same if I had a hiding place for mutants. I liked that they were taking precautions.</p><p>“That’s ok. I’ll wait for you right here, then.” I said through a resigned sigh.</p><p>“There’s nothing to worry about, it’s quite safe up there, I promise. Have a good night, everything will be alright” The woman soothed me.</p><p>“Yeah, thank you so much.” I replied.</p><p>The radio went silent.</p><p>Well, this wouldn’t be the first time that I’d have to spend the night alone. I glanced around one last time, admiring the cluster of trees in the distance before climbing down and walking into the little cabin.</p><p>In the few minutes that I’d been inside the temperature had dropped. The wind blew, freezing my limbs. There was wood in one of the corners, but it was wet --I would never get a fire started with that wood, at least not now. I sat on one of the beds, straining to hear a comforting sound from the trees outside. Even an owl hooting would have done. But up here there was nothing. This safe house was ok for two or three people, but not suitable for more than four children. It needed more beds, more blankets, food, dry logs… We would have to make it comfortable for Laura and her friends before they arrived. <em>Hopefully, they would. All of them.</em></p><p>For a moment, I considered climbing down to get some clothes and snacks from my suitcase, but the prospect of making it to the top again made me change my mind. I could sleep in the car, but it wouldn’t be as safe as staying up here. I shivered as I tucked myself under the flimsy blankets, holding my phone close to my chest. After a few minutes, my mind began to conjure up images that I could almost touch. I didn’t like the fact that I was semiconscious. I didn’t want to go to sleep --not until today’s news, calls, and journey had sunk in. But I was so tired…</p><p>
  <em>I found myself staring into familiar dark eyes, I was dropping down to her level, on both knees, placing my hands gently on her shoulders, repeating her name over and over again. Her gaze was intent, her eyes moved across my face cautiously. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Do you know who I am?” I whispered.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“No”</em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>**"Save Yourself", KALEO.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. MUTANTS</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <em>**"Is that a dagger or a crucifix I see</em></strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>You hold so tightly in your hand</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>And all the while the distance grows between you and me</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>I do not understand." </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>The sound of jovial voices outside shattered the silence, waking me up. The acoustics in the cabin made it difficult to distinguish what they were saying. I opened my eyes, looking around tiredly, and then my senses came back to me, slowly, as I remembered where I was.</p><p>I shot upward and stumbled out of bed before stalking over to the window. My eyes widened as I took in the sight. There was a couple climbing the last bit of the mountain, the man was shouting instructions to the woman as she edged her way up, putting her hands and feet in exactly the places she was told.</p><p>“Baby, do you mean my left foot or my right foot?” she was interrupting, clearly scared.</p><p>I watched them till they made it to the top. They were both wearing matching khaki shorts and white polo T-shirts. He was tall, chubby, and bald; she was fit, tanned, and blonde. They looked like one of those perfect middle-aged American couples that go hiking every weekend while their children are away at a boarding school in England. I prayed hard that they were not tourists who had happened to find this place by mistake.</p><p>Instead of waiting for them to come to me, I walked to the door and stepped out. The woman was sitting on the ground, panting and wiping a sheen of sweat off her temple as her husband offered her his hand to help her back up. They were laughing and teasing each other.</p><p>I stood on the threshold, my back pressed into the door.</p><p>“We’re not young anymore, are we babe? Maybe we shouldn’t--” The man was saying, but paused suddenly when he saw me.</p><p>“Hey!” he exclaimed, waving at me and smiling as if we were old friends. “You must be Sarah. I’m Paul and this is my wife Lori!"</p><p>The bubbly woman waved hello too and flashed me a white smile. Her hair was held up in a messy bun and she looked far more exhausted than her not-so-fit husband.</p><p>Their appearance and attitude strangely reminded me of that fatidic day when Donald Pierce had lured me with smiles and questions, and I stupidly had trusted him right away because he was a white American man. I wouldn’t even be standing here right now if I had been more careful, and I certainly wouldn’t be alive if the very people my parents had taught me to fear and distrust hadn’t helped me after I jumped out of the white van. Life gave me a lesson that day about prejudice.</p><p>“Yes, I am.” I replied cautiously. </p><p>In response, Paul moved to close the gap and I automatically extended my hand, but instead of shaking it, the big man put his arms around my shoulders and embraced me.</p><p>“We’re so glad you came!” he said, before taking a step back. Meanwhile, his wife Lori was letting her hair fall, sweat still dripping down her forehead.</p><p>“You don’t look American, girl.” Paul said, his pale blue eyes moving across my face. “Where are you from?”</p><p>I opened my mouth to answer but he spoke first. </p><p>“No, no, no, no. Let me guess.” </p><p>Lori rolled her eyes at this and crossed her arms, before winking at me, letting me know that her husband was always like this.</p><p>“Italy?” he asked quizzically.</p><p>“No” I replied.</p><p>“Portugal?” he frowned.</p><p>I shook my head. “No”</p><p>“Spain?”</p><p>“No”</p><p>“Come on, Paul! It’s obvious that she’s Latina.” Lori sighed moodily as she went forward. “Stop being weird”</p><p>“All of those are Latinos.” Paul retaliated through raised eyebrows.</p><p>“But that’s not how we categorize ethnic groups in America” she fired back through a wave of her hand, as Paul frowned deeply.</p><p>“Yes, but technically…”</p><p>“I’m from Mexico City” I interrupted, smiling a little, before their little fight went on forever. I had to admit that they were cute together.</p><p>“But you just arrived from England!” Paul exclaimed, and I tilted my head in confusion.</p><p>“No, why would you-?” </p><p>“Your accent.” Lori said.</p><p>Oh, hanging around Tom had given me a mixed accent. I gave a little laugh. A lot of the time I was either in autopilot mode --going through the motions in my life or, more often, caught up with worrying, that I failed to notice small, obvious details about myself.</p><p>“That’s my husband’s fault. He’s a Londoner.” I replied, sticking to my made-up life story.</p><p>Paul’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Husband! No way! But you are so young!” he exclaimed, and Lori nudged him in the ribs, slightly embarrassed. “Why don’t you tell us about him as we climb down?” he asked, full of curiosity, gesturing to the cliff.</p><p>Lori rolled her eyes once more and took a deep breath as we followed Paul closely, I could tell she wasn’t quite ready to face the challenge.</p><p>Climbing down was infinitely less straining, though a lot more dangerous. We had to be very careful not to slip. Paul was at the front opening the way and offering his hand for support every now and then. There were times when Lori shook her head vigorously or exhaled loudly.</p><p>“So, you got married young?” Paul inquired as he helped Lori down a rock.</p><p>“Yes, when I was twenty.” I lied, holding firmly to anything within reach. “My husband and I first met at a kind of beach complex” That was not a lie. “I was sixteen. It was love at first sight. Five months later he moved to Mexico and we started dating.”</p><p>“How sweet to meet the love of your life at such a young age.” Paul grinned, leading the way down a narrow path. “I found Lori until I was thirty-five.” he said, turning to search Lori’s eyes for a response, but she was too engrossed, trying not to slip. “You told Anna that you have a ten-year-old daughter.” Paul continued instead. “I bet everybody thinks you’re sisters. You look... 23...24, <em>but you can’t be 24</em>. How old are you?”</p><p>I smiled, <em>I knew this was going to happen</em>. My slim figure and lack of makeup made me look a lot younger.</p><p>“I just turned twenty eight” I replied as we waited for Lori to catch up with us. “I had my daughter when I was seventeen. I didn’t know better and… it just happened.” I shrugged my shoulders through a grin.</p><p>“No, no, having kids when you’re young is the best. You still have the energy to run and play. It’s very easy to keep up with them.” Paul said, letting me know that he wasn’t judging me. “We have a ten-year-old girl called Gabrielle, she can make people and animals fall asleep just by touching them.”</p><p>There was a sound above us and we both looked up, Lori was laughing. “We found out after she missed school several times.” she was speaking with restraint, as if the force of her words could propel her downwards. “She would come to our room every morning and climb between us, but no matter how hard she shook us, we wouldn't wake up.” The couple burst into laughter and I couldn’t help but laugh too, though the anecdote was a bit disturbing. </p><p>“She can control it now. Anna helped her.” Paul added, kind of disappointed, as he edged away from an unstable rock before finally touching the ground. “But it was funny while it lasted.”</p><p>I was beginning to like them, they were so laid back. I would have freaked out if my kid did something like that. In fact, <em>I had freaked out. </em></p><p>“Who’s Anna?” I asked suddenly, lowering myself the last couple of feet. “This is the second time you mention her.”</p><p>It was nice to be back on <em>terra firma</em>. I wiped my eyes and peered up at Lori, she was steadying herself.</p><p>“Anna is the founder and principal of Eden.” Paul began, wiping the sweat off his brow as he helped his wife down. “She began this project a few months ago after Xavier’s school closed its doors. She believed mutants were still out there, children having a hard time figuring out what was wrong with them.” he explained as we began to walk toward the road.</p><p>“Do you know what <em>really</em> happened at Xavier’s school?” I asked.</p><p>“Nobody knows for sure. Everyone says it was an accident” Lori muttered, her breath coming in short and ragged gasps as she desperately tried to shield her eyes from the bright sun. “Mutants and humans alike were killed. The U.S government turned their back on the mutant community after that.”</p><p>“Oh” was all I managed to say.</p><p>“Anna has been traveling the world ever since, looking for parents who have…<em>undiagnosed </em>kids.” Paul said. “She also searches through the web posing as a doctor. We were one of the first couples she found, and thanks to her we have this place where children like our Gabrielle can be safe. She asked for help in many countries, but all of them gave her the same shitty speech: <em>‘Your children have the same rights as any other person, but we cannot grant them asylum and give them special protection. Sorry’</em> That kind of bullshit” Paul whispered harshly.</p><p>“In short” Lori interrupted, still gasping for breath. “They wouldn’t invest money to protect mutant children from traffickers, criminals, or any other hazard they might be exposed to because of their condition.” she hissed, quite pissed off. “Canada was the only country to accept our request, so Anna chose to build a refuge close to the fictional haven depicted in the X-Men comic books.”</p><p>“She used them as breadcrumbs.” Paul added, throwing a knowing smile in my direction. “She knew that many desperate parents would surely use the comics as a starting point.”</p><p>“Mutants in pop culture are the only role models our children have left.” Lori muttered, her face falling a bit at this.</p><p>“They have us too, love.” Paul said softly, rubbing his wife’s back.</p><p>I knew exactly what they were going through and I was glad to find out that I wasn’t alone in this. A heavy weight was being lifted off my shoulders.</p><p>We had reached the road by now, their car, a red Toyota, was parked thirty feet away from a dead tree. Paul was leading us towards it, the passenger door and all the windows were open.</p><p>“I have a car too. It’s behind that rock over there” I informed them, gesturing towards the area around said rock.</p><p>“Oh. In that case, Lori will take our car and I’ll ride with you. Let’s go” Paul said enthusiastically. I noticed he wasn’t making a suggestion, but giving me an order. Paul and Lori were nice and all, but also very protective of Eden, just like that other woman. <em>Anna</em>.</p><p>“Ok” I barely muttered, leading the way.</p><p>Less than twenty seconds later we were standing by the car. I fished the keys from my pocket and was about to open the driver’s door when Paul held out his hand.</p><p>“Can I drive?” he asked, giving me a little smile.</p><p>I hesitated for a moment, looking at his hand.</p><p>“Please” he pressed.</p><p>I reluctantly handed him the keys and then got in the front.</p><p>“So” he sighed, fumbling for the ignition. “You haven’t told me your daughter’s name.” Now his tone was almost apologetic.</p><p>“<em>Laura</em>.” A smile formed on my face as I pronounced her name. I couldn’t help it, she was my whole world and I was so proud of her.</p><p>“LAH-oo-rah” Paul repeated, not quite saying it right. “Is it Latin?”</p><p>“Yeah.” I nodded. Paul was a bit like me, he loved interesting facts. I already knew that we were going to get along.</p><p>“<strong>Laura</strong> in English, I guess?” he asked quizzically.</p><p>“Yes. Feel free to pronounce it the way you want.” I said, before quickly adding, “Unless she tells you otherwise, of course.”</p><p>“Oh, thanks. It’s a pretty name. And what can she do?” Paul inquired, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to meet my gaze.</p><p>“She ummm... heals” I muttered.</p><p>Paul’s eyebrows shot up in amazement. “A healing factor! Wow! Every parent’s dream!” he exclaimed.</p><p><em>Not mine, </em>I growled in my mind, remembering how Laura was being tortured because of this.</p><p>“Anna will be very impressed” he said excitedly “There’s a famous mutant with that ability, you obviously know--”</p><p>“Yeah, it's very impressive” I interrupted, clearing my throat as I glanced away to the world outside.</p><p>“Is that all she can do?” Paul asked, his voice edged with suspicion.</p><p>“Yeah, that’s all” I replied firmly, focusing on the dry landscape around us.</p><p>“That’s more than enough, more than enough.” he chanted. </p><p>We drove in silence for the next five minutes and I seized the opportunity to reach out for my travel bag and take out a granola bar. I hadn’t eaten anything last night and my stomach was growling. I thought Paul was going to look at me from the corner of his eye or tell me that I couldn’t take stuff out of my bag, but he kept focused on the road.</p><p>“See those trees over there?” he finally asked after a moment. “That’s the border, Eden is on the other side. I need you to take out your ID”</p><p>I nodded and rummaged in my bag to get my passport. Paul took a quick glance at it.</p><p>“Kinney!” he exclaimed “I didn’t know it was common for Mexican women to change their surname after marriage.”</p><p>“It’s not. I did it for practical reasons.” I said casually, looking down at the document. “It’s a nightmare to fill out forms when you have four names.”</p><p>“True.” Paul laughed, throwing a look to me once more. “And what’s your husband’s name by the way?”</p><p>“Tom” I replied, turning my passport over. These forgers had done a nice job.</p><p>“What does he do for a living?” Paul asked, genuinely curious. “I used to work as a lawyer in Chicago, now I help Anna with all the legal stuff.”</p><p>“Really?” I glanced back at him and he gave a nod. “My husband is a geneticist.”</p><p>“Woah!” Paul exclaimed, his eyes widening. “Now I’m excited to meet him. I am into science --especially genetics-- since we discovered that Gabrielle is a mutant.”</p><p>I let out a laugh. “Me too. In fact, I’m studying to become a research geneticist, although my goal is to become a mutant geneticist.”</p><p>“Go for it, girl. Our community needs you.” he said. I then couldn’t help the small upturn of my lips.</p><p>We crossed the Canadian border easily. After wishing the two border guards a nice day, Paul drove as fast as he dared, checking his rearview mirror for anything suspicious before taking a sharp turn onto a gravel trail. On both sides, the trees soared above us.</p><p>“Here, put this blindfold on.” he said, untying a handkerchief from his belt. “It’s the rules, we can’t let newcomers know the way to Eden. I’m sorry” I couldn’t help but notice how nervous Paul appeared to be as we began to go deeper into the woods.</p><p>“It’s fine.” I mumbled, holding the handkerchief in my trembling hands as I covered my eyes with it. I felt anxious and short of breath, being in any situation that resembled a kidnapping brought back undesirable memories.</p><p>“Are you ok?” I heard Paul asking in a worried voice.</p><p>“Y…yes” I barely managed.</p><p>The engine of the car continued to propel the tires over the soft gravel-like terrain. Paul attempted once more to strike up a casual conversation, but he quit when he noticed that I was only nodding and answering with short phrases. I wondered if this was how Laura felt when she couldn’t find her voice in front of others.</p><p>After a bumpy thirty-minute drive, the car came to a full stop and Paul allowed me to take off the blindfold. We were directly in front of two tall iron doors. Lori’s car was parked to our right. She was waiting for us. A young man came out of a small security booth and politely waved at us before opening the heavy green doors.</p><p>A quick, breathy sigh escaped me. Eden was and was not what I was expecting. This tiny village surrounded by walls looked like a dream, a film, a childhood memory. There was a kind of ache in the air, a familiarity. I had arrived to a place that knew me somehow, and seemed, in the calmness that engulfed the pine trees, to expect me.</p><p>“It’s not much, I know.” Paul said, rubbing his face with one hand, his words and sudden movements dispelling the delicate sensation. “The government didn’t give us the best land, but at least it’s ours. We’re still working on it.”</p><p>He parked the car in a corner of the improvised lot and we stepped out of it. Lori was already walking toward us.</p><p>“Everything ok?” she asked, hands on her hips.</p><p>“Yes, thank you” I replied as I got my bag from the back seat. Despite my nervousness I took a moment to appreciate the time and effort these people were putting into making Eden work. I could see a beautiful ranch home a few feet away from us. Located just to the left of the house, I observed what appeared to be a small building and a barn. The place was full of cabins surrounded by gardens of rich vegetation --including vegetables-- and small ponds. A number of horses, pigs and other farm animals could be seen walking around the enclosed corrals attached to the barn. It was like a secret oasis in the middle of nowhere. I experienced a strange mix of emotions. Relief, joy, amazement, sorrow. And guilt, maybe. Tom was still in Mexico doing the hardest part.</p><p>“Come with me” Lori said, pulling me back to focus on her and wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “I’ll show you around and then I’ll take you to Anna. She’s waiting for you in her office.”</p><p>She led me through the narrow 'streets' among the log cabins. I liked that they were all different. Some curious villagers were coming out of their homes to greet me and introduce themselves. Their smiles were amiable and appeared to be completely genuine.</p><p>“Each family has their own cabin” Lori began, as a group of children ran past us. “There are currently ten families living in Eden, we have two single mothers who chose to live together, so we count them as one. You can stay with Paul and me until we build a cabin for your family.” she offered.</p><p>At last we reached the building on the other side. We walked through an aluminum gate which brought us to a playground with swings and climbing structures. It was full of children. A short boy was pulling five other kids in a red homemade cart as if they weighed nothing at all. A little girl was calling out for her sister to stop and look as she duplicated herself. A little further on we came across two identical twin brothers sitting across from each other with their arms crossed, concentrating on something.</p><p>“Twin telepathy.” Lori muttered, noticing my curiosity. “Anna believes they’ll be able to read other people’s minds in a couple of years.”</p><p>“Are they all mutants?” I asked, transfixed.</p><p>“No, most of our kids have siblings”</p><p>“But some of them haven’t hit puberty yet. How come…?” I trailed off, staring at a seven-year-old girl with blue skin.</p><p>“We don’t know. Chemicals and hormones in the food, maybe.” Lori was probably right. Alkali had been messing up with the food after all.</p><p>“This is where the children usually play.” she added through a smile. “We used to have a pretty jungle gym with slides and everything, but it was too… fragile.” Lori laughed, and I shook my head, thinking that Laura would probably shred these play structures into pieces in the blink of an eye.</p><p>I stood for many minutes looking, tempted to walk towards some of the kids and talk to them. I had never seen them before, not in pictures, not in comic books. But this is how I had imagined them, and I had no memory of imagining them at all.</p><p>Eventually, we began to walk in the direction of the silent building across the playground.</p><p>“And this is the school.” Lori said proudly. “It has a special gym and a pool. We have three specially trained tutors, they come twice a week. The rest of the time the parents take turns to teach.”</p><p>It was the way the big stone building fulfilled my expectations that gave me the first touch of excitement. The well-kept structure looked as it should. I was admiring the pretty garden at the front of it when an important question struck me.</p><p>“Lori, are there any adult mutants here?” I inquired.</p><p>Lori shook her head and gestured me to follow her. “No, only children. Anna found a couple of grown ups a few weeks ago, but they refused to join us.”</p><p>“Maybe they got used to hiding and they’re ok with it.” I muttered, remembering that Logan was living that way.</p><p>“Our oldest mutant is sixteen years old, his name is Cody. Most of these kids found out they were mutants when they were eleven or twelve but --as you noticed-- we have a couple of cases where the difference was obvious from an early age.”</p><p><em>Puta madre</em>, I thought. This just ruined plan A. I couldn’t ask these parents to send their babies to Mexico City to help us set Laura and her friends free. Not even the adults could help, I wouldn’t dare to leave any of these kids orphaned.</p><p>“What about Anna, isn't she a mutant?” I asked. </p><p>Lori’s eyes widened at this and she shoved her hands in her pockets, her demeanor appearing to become agitated and nervous.</p><p>“She is, but she never uses her abilities, in fact, we don’t even know what she can do.” Lori mumbled.</p><p>I frowned deeply. “Why not?”</p><p>The woman shrugged and looked at me. “I guess she doesn’t want the parents to feel intimidated or…I don’t know, she just kinda tends to keep to herself.” Lori said, but then something in her face fell. “I’d like to talk to her more often, but Anna doesn’t live in Eden, she only visits every now and then. You were lucky she was here when you contacted us.”</p><p>“But hasn’t anyone ever asked her about her abilities?” I insisted. I couldn’t believe that a mutant who was so keen to save others like her was hiding her own gifts from the world.</p><p>“Yeah, but she gets uncomfortable every time anyone asks her, and only replies that it’s not important. I guess she's right” Lori said timidly. </p><p>I narrowed my eyes, already puzzling over this mutant's behavior. I didn’t quite like it. </p><p>“She’s a wonderful person, you’ll see.” Lori grinned widely, attempting to lift up my doubts.</p><p>“Lori, is there signal here? I need to call my husband” I asked instead, changing the subject.</p><p>“Yes, yes of course. You must be desperate to ask him about your daughter.” <em>You have no idea</em>, I thought, as we kept walking. “I totally feel you, girl. Kids can’t be left alone with their dads.” Lori said through a wink. “Would you like to call him now?”</p><p>“No, I’d like to meet Anna first.” I replied, dying to meet the mysterious founder of Eden.</p><p>“Perfect. That cabin over there is mine.” she said, pointing to a pretty log cabin nestled in front of the school as she took my travel bag from my hands. “You can come over and settle in afterwards.”</p><p>We entered the school then. It looked pretty much like any other. It had classrooms, lockers and was decorated according to the time of the year. There were childish drawings and colorful posters everywhere. By the time we reached Anna’s office much of my uncertainty about Eden had rubbed off, even if my stomach was turning into jelly. I watched as Lori clenched her fist into a tight ball and tapped lightly on the door.</p><p>The founder immediately summoned us to enter.</p><p>Gulping back the lump in my throat I walked into the oak-panelled room. Anna was sitting behind a beautiful oak desk that perfectly matched the decoration. I couldn’t tell her exact age, maybe over 43, but she was certainly one of those women that get more attractive with age. Her dark eyes matched the color of her long, straight brown hair; she had pretty creamy skin, full lips, and round breasts. A fit and strong body any model would kill for. I was suddenly too aware of my jeans, tank top, and chucks. I should have asked Lori to let me shower and change into clean clothes before meeting her.</p><p>“Hi, Anna. This is Sarah” Lori said squeezing my hand once to reassure me, before closing the door behind her.</p><p>Anna did not speak, but waved her hand to invite me to sit on the black leathered-back chair positioned purposely in front of the desk.</p><p>My voice had left me once more and my mouth had gone dry as the desert. I sank slowly onto the chair and clenched my hands tightly in my lap. It all seemed so formal.</p><p>“Don’t look so frightened.” The woman smiled at me. She certainly had a pretty and kind face.</p><p>“I’m not.” I lied, forcing my voice to come out. “Thank you for having me here.”</p><p>She did not speak again, but looked down at some papers she had on her desk.</p><p>“I talked to Paul a few minutes ago while Lori was showing you around” Her dark eyes pivoted up to meet mine with a swiftness that physically jolted my body. “He briefly told me about you.” <em>Oh, so that’s why Paul was being so chatty, he was squeezing more information out of me.</em> “He said that you’re from Mexico City, married, and an aspiring mutant geneticist.”</p><p>“Yes, it’s all true.” I replied, as she once more focused on the papers in front of her.</p><p>“Good. So you have a ten year-old-daughter called <em>Laura --Laura Kinney</em>?” she asked, looking to me for clarification.  </p><p> “Yes”</p><p>“And she has a… healing factor” she said through a stammer and then grimaced. <em>How weird.</em></p><p>“Yes, she does.” I murmured.</p><p>A smile warmed on her face and she dropped her gaze quickly to the papers. “Wow, I never thought I would get to see a mutant with that ability again.” she muttered. There was something off about the way she’d said the last part, and I wondered, not for the first time, what she was hiding.</p><p>“Is that all she can do?” The woman inquired after a few seconds of silence, her eyes settling back on me, and, just like Paul, she eyed me suspiciously. <em>God,</em> they were all going to kill me when they found out that I’d lied, but I couldn’t tell them the whole truth until I was absolutely positive that I could trust them.</p><p>“Yes, that’s all she can do.” I assured her, staring directly at her.</p><p>Her eyebrows lifted and she cleared her throat. “Ok, and where is she now?”</p><p>“In Mexico City. I needed to come first and make sure that Eden was real and safe. Her father is going to bring her as soon as he can.” <em>Well, none of that was a lie.</em></p><p>“And when will that be?” she asked curiously.</p><p> <em>Fuck. I should have prepared my responses ahead.</em> “I don’t know” I admitted. “It’s complicated.”</p><p>The beautiful woman nodded and chose to stand, crossing the room to the window. “I assume Laura’s in school and your husband has a job in Mexico, so there’s a lot of paperwork to take care of before they can come to live here.” she said, staring through one of the small square panes of glass. “It could be weeks, even months before that happens. Are you planning to go back home and help them out?”</p><p>My tension increased. Going back was the logical thing to do, but that was not part of the plan, I was supposed to wait for Laura here. <em>‘No! You have to go! O</em><em>ne of us has to stay safe! I know that you feel helpless, but Laura needs her mummy. Your only job is to be there, safe and ready.’ </em>Tom had said when I had a crisis and almost cancelled the flight just hours before parting ways.</p><p>My hands began to tremble, and I racked my brain for a good answer without telling her the truth. “I… don’t know if I should go back.” I mumbled.</p><p>“You shouldn’t.” she said, half turning. “I suggest that you stay here and settle in. A cabin must be built for your little family. You have to paint it, get furniture, get to know your neighbors… Making a new home takes time.”</p><p>I nodded, but offered no response in return. The silence continued and I glanced nervously round the room.</p><p>“Ok” Anna suddenly said, startling my attention back to her, before crossing the room back to her desk. She rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a pen and a small leather notebook. “So…” she began, smiling again and leaning toward me eagerly. “Tell me a little bit about Laura. The better we know her, the better we’ll be able to help her.”</p><p>I could feel the panic surfacing in my eyes as she waited for my answer.</p><p>“Well, she is… she likes to… read?” I stupidly answered through a tilt of my head.</p><p>A small frown appeared on Anna's face and she laughed a shaky laugh. “Oh, ok. That’s good.” she muttered, scribbling on her notebook. “Not every child in Eden is an English speaker, by the way. We have a wonderful teacher in case she needs some classes. <em>Does she?</em>” The woman inquired.</p><p>“Mmmm…” I hesitated, biting my lip. Anna was watching my face, waiting for me to answer.</p><p>“Paul mentioned that your husband is British. Is she bilingual?” she pressed, somewhat confused.</p><p>
  <em>Mierda, mierda...was she? She understood English, that was obvious, and Gabriela was reading to her in Spanish, so she understood that language too --but understanding and speaking are two very different things. She didn’t even speak! Which language did she speak... when she spoke? Fuck. </em>
</p><p>“Sarah?” Anna asked again, frowning deeply, trying to catch my eyes.</p><p>I cleared my throat, finally looking at her. “She is. Laura <em>understands</em> both languages.”</p><p>“Perfect.” Anna said under her breath, still frowning as she wrote down my answer. “Which grade is she in?”</p><p>“Sixth grade” I lied, closing my eyes for a moment and shaking my head slowly while her eyes were on the paper.</p><p>“Is there any food she can’t eat? Is she allergic to something?” Anna inquired.</p><p>I clenched my hands tighter in my lap and swallowed hard. <em>Why was she doing this to me?</em></p><p>“I…I don’t think so, no.”  I answered awkwardly.</p><p>“You don’t think so? Ok” she murmured, a note of sarcasm in her voice. I could feel myself going red. <em>This was so embarrassing.</em></p><p>“Is there anything she likes in particular? A color? An animal? A cartoon? A landscape? We like to make our new children feel welcome and comfortable.” she explained, finally lifting her head to look at me.</p><p>I was tense as can be. I didn’t know what to say. This was so frustrating. Laura couldn’t possibly like any of those things because she’d never seen them.</p><p>“She likes little girl stuff” I said through a tired sigh. “Pink things, unicorns, fairy tales…all that.” I concluded, unable to shake the frustration in my voice.</p><p>This time Anna shot me a look, and the atmosphere changed abruptly.</p><p>“I think this will do for now.” she muttered, somewhat exasperated, placing the notebook down on the desk. “Lori and Paul’s cabin is right in front of this building. Go and make yourself at home, they’ll take good care of you.”</p><p>She didn’t need to say that twice. I leaped out of the chair, eager to find a place where I could sulk in solitude. I felt embarrassed, exposed, misjudged. This interview had made feel like I wasn’t mother material, and I began to wonder if I would know how to go about tending to all Laura’s needs.</p><p>“Thank you, Anna.” I said stiffly before crossing the room.</p><p>I was at the door when she stopped me. “One more thing, Sarah.” I spun back to her. “Do you have a photo of Laura? We need one for her file.” she said, folding her arms, as she got off her desk.</p><p>I stared at her for a moment. I did have a picture of my daughter, I always kept it in my pocket. Tom couldn't resist stealing it for me as soon as he saw it, he thought it was hilarious: Laura was wearing a fucking cute frown, looking all confused. This piece of paper was the only thing in the world that lifted my mood instantly. Anna didn’t need a photo for the file, she was asking for it because my shitty answers had raised her suspicions. I would have to give her my treasure if only so I could earn her trust.</p><p>“Yes, I have many pictures of her on my old phone but…” I hesitated, shoving my hand in the back pocket of my jeans “…I always carry one with me. Here.”</p><p>She took the small photo from my hands and turned it over. Her eyes went wide, and her lips parted, then closed again. The expression on her face was unreadable. I felt my eyes narrow with suspicion as she unconsciously gripped the photo tightly. Anna seemed to have forgotten my presence, she was staring down at it hard, puzzling over something about my girl’s face.</p><p>I began to feel uncomfortable. </p><p>After a prolonged silence she finally tore her eyes from the picture, shaking her head slightly, as if dismissing a thought. “You have a beautiful little girl. She looks like you.” Anna barely muttered, handing the photo back to me before pulling out the desk chair. Her gaze relaxed into emptiness as she planted her elbows on the desk and propped her face up on her fists.</p><p>“Don’t you want it for the file?” I asked through a raised eyebrow. But the woman didn’t reply, she kept staring distractedly at nothing, enveloped in her thoughts.</p><p>“Anna?” I asked once more, breaking into her reverie.</p><p>“Sorry what?” she finally asked, realizing that she was being observed.</p><p>“Don’t you want the picture for the file?” I repeated, holding it up, so she could she what I was talking about.</p><p>She shook her head. “No, no, you can keep it. Thank you” she said, waving off my question with a flip of her hand. That <em>‘thank you’ </em>felt more like a <em>‘get out of here because I want to be alone’ </em>so I closed the door gently and walked down the corridor. I shuddered, gripping the photo of my daughter tightly.</p><p>There was something about that woman.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>**"Blood of Eden", Peter Gabriel.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. CLAWS</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <em>**"And I wanna believe you</em></strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>When you tell me that it'll be ok</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Yeah, I try to believe you</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>But I don't."</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>After spending the night in a cold cabin in the middle of nowhere, letting two strangers blindfold me, and meeting mutants for the first time in my life, I felt in need of a warm bath and food. Lori had said she had to pick up her kid from school and did not mind delaying the meal.</p><p>Lori and Paul’s home was what I would like my own to be. It was a beautiful, hippish-like, four-bedroom log cabin, which, despite having been constructed recently, kept that old-style look. Most of the decorative items were either handmade or recycled, but not because they couldn’t afford stuff, but because they wanted to give it their personal touch.</p><p>I soaked in a small tub which was wedged in tight against the sloping roof of the guest bathroom. I closed my eyes and half dozed, letting the smell of wet wood and homemade soap fill my nostrils as my mind replayed the interview with Anna. I didn’t like hiding things from her, but I felt like she was hiding stuff from me too. I was thinking about the way she’d looked at Laura’s photo…like she’d found something she’d lost long ago.</p><p>When at last I appeared downstairs, Lori was scribbling on a notebook while Gabrielle, her daughter, was sitting at the dining table, where only two places were set.</p><p>“I was waiting for you!” The little girl said excitedly when she saw me, jumping to her feet. “I’m Gabrielle.” she smiled prettily as she offered me her right hand.</p><p>She was the same age as Laura, and I couldn’t help making comparisons. Gabrielle was slim and tall for her age –no, she wasn’t tall, Laura was short—and whereas my daughter still looked like a child, Gabrielle was an early bloomer, a confident preteen girl with braces and ashy blonde hair held up in a messy bun. She reminded me a bit of Daniela, one of the girls I’d met at Transigen. Lori’s daughter was a mutant too, but her carefree attitude and perpetual smile reminded me that nurture has greater effect than nature. Unlike Laura, little Gabrielle wasn’t intimidating.</p><p>“It’s lovely to meet you, <em>nena</em>.” I said, shaking her hand, before sitting at the table with her. Meanwhile, Lori was fetching our meal from the kitchen, explaining that she and Paul would eat later.</p><p>“Anna asked him to help her with some papers, and I have to plan tomorrow’s lesson.” she said apologetically. </p><p>“It’s ok” I answered, taking a bite of the omelette Lori had made.</p><p>“Is it good?” Gabrielle asked, smiling at me once more. “I helped my mom beat the eggs”</p><p>“It’s the best omelette I’ve ever had.” I replied, winking at her.</p><p>Lori let out a laugh as she playfully patted the girl’s head. “She was so excited to meet you. Most of her friends are boys because the other girls are either too young or too old”</p><p>“Yeah, and you are young and cool.” Gabrielle smirked, obviously very comfortable speaking up her mind around strangers, just like her dad. “Is it true that you have a daughter?” she asked, curiosity growing in her blue eyes.</p><p>“I do” I replied, taking a sip of the orange juice Lori had just put in front of me. “Her name is Laura. She’s ten like you.”</p><p>“Oh, finally!” Gabrielle sighed, feigning relief. “I’ll bet she’s your best friend. Young moms are the coolest.” she said honestly, shrugging her shoulders as she sliced her omelette in half.</p><p>“Hey!” Lori exclaimed, pretending to be offended, as she went back to her notebook. “Just because I can’t learn those pop dances you like, doesn’t mean I’m not cool.”</p><p>Gabrielle rolled her eyes in response and leaned towards me, before whispering dramatically, "Laura is very lucky to have a young mom like you" </p><p>“Yeah.” I managed through a half-smile as I dropped my gaze down to the food on my plate. Gabrielle had no idea that her kind words were hitting a nerve.</p><p>“Oh, by the way!” Lori said loudly, suddenly remembering something. “There’s signal here if you want to call your husband”</p><p>"But we're talking, mom!" Gabrielle protested. </p><p>“Ah, um... yeah... thank you so much, Lori, I really need to call him.” I stammered, picking up my plate. This was the perfect excuse to avoid this conversation. </p><p>“No, no, no” Lori said, standing abruptly, moving to take the plate from my hands. “Go and call him. The backyard is over there if you need privacy.”</p><p>I thanked the woman once more and promised Gabrielle that I'd be right back, before going out into the glare of the garden.</p><p>The sun beat down on my head. I crossed the spacious backyard as the warm air filled my senses with the rich smell of the flowers around me. I felt lighthearted. There were no walls, just a short wooden fence, and beyond it, lines of tall conifers and a clearing in the plantation where a mocha horse was lifting its heavy head with a steady and loud purr. I smiled, horses were my favorite animal when I was a kid, I was obsessed with them. There was a velvety silence against which other small sounds seemed polished: children singing and playing, casual human whistling, and beautiful birdsongs. I had forgotten how peaceful life was in the country.</p><p>Without taking my eyes off of the amazing landscape before me, I leaned back against a tree trunk and called Tom.</p><p>“Oh, God!” his anguished voice answered in less than a second, like he’d been checking his phone every two minutes.</p><p>“Hey!” I said through a grin. “I’m in Eden.”</p><p>Nothing but silence greeted my words and I let out a laugh.</p><p>“Re…really?” he stammered.</p><p>“Yes, really, really” I muttered. “And guess what? The location in the comic book is just a meeting point. Eden is in Canada, near the border!”</p><p>“And what’s it like?” he blurted out, barely containing his excitement.</p><p>“It’s like a…like a tiny village surrounded by walls. They have a school, a farm, gardens, and even a small park for the children. It does look like the Garden of Eden.” I said enthusiastically, casting a quick glance around.</p><p>“Wow, it really is a haven. Who runs it?” Tom asked curiously.</p><p>“A woman named Anna. She’s a mutant herself, although nobody knows what she can do. She travels the world looking for other mutants. Eden is under the protection of the Canadian government.”</p><p>I heard him breathe through his nose. “<em>Jesus</em>, I can’t believe our luck. Honestly, I can’t.” he muttered in disbelief. “But what about the adult mutants? Have you talked to them yet?”</p><p>“Well, no because…there aren’t any.” I said quietly, scuffing my foot on the green grass.</p><p>“But you just said that Anna…” Tom trailed off, totally confused.</p><p>“They’re all children, and Anna doesn’t live here, she’s traveling all the time. Eden depends on her and her work.”</p><p>“So…that means…” his voice trailed off once more, but this time he wasn’t confused, he was having a difficult time voicing what we were both thinking. “We’ll have to rely on Gabriela and Logan after all.” Tom muttered, not even attempting to hide his concern.</p><p>“Yes” I said softly. “And you.”</p><p>“And me” he sighed heavily. </p><p>We stayed silent for several seconds as the weight of my statement sunk in. I looked towards the cabin, little Gabrielle was waving at me from the patio door, eager for me to finish the phone call so I could go back into the living room. I threw a smile in her direction before turning my attention back to Tom.</p><p>“Also…” I hesitated, breaking the silence. “I haven’t told them about Transigen and the other children yet. I need to be around for a few days, get to know these people better, all that.”</p><p>“I agree.” Tom replied, confirming that it was best to be cautious. “What did you tell them, then? What’s the official story?” he asked quickly.</p><p>“I tried not to lie too much.” I said. “They think I’m your wife and they assumed you’re Laura’s father—although I never said that—I said that <em>her</em> father will bring her as soon as he can.”</p><p>“I don’t mind if they think she’s mine. I mean, her passport says <em>Kinney</em>.” he sounded a bit offended, but when we were a couple he’d made it very clear that it was impossible for him to love a feral mutant girl like a daughter. </p><p>“<em>Gracias</em> <em>guapo</em>, but she already has a father, so it’s fine.” I said before I could think.</p><p>“Ouch.” he said playfully, and I rolled my eyes.</p><p>“You know what I mean, silly.” I tried to clarify before changing the subject. “Oh, and I told them that Laura has a healing factor, but never mentioned the claws. I don’t want them to guess whose kid she is.”</p><p>“Well done, the last thing you need right now is a scandal. However, do tell them the whole truth when you find the right moment. It's not fair to hide things from these people”</p><p>“Yeah, I know.” I bit my lip momentarily, pondering on his words.</p><p>“Hey, I have good news too.” Tom said loudly, shaking off his previous mood. “Guess what?”</p><p>“What?” I asked eagerly.</p><p>“I saw Gabriela. I talked to her.”</p><p>I felt a sudden pang of nervousness/excitement, a smile spreading slowly across my face as I discretely rounded the tree I was leaning against so Gabrielle couldn’t see me. </p><p>“What!” I whispered, my eyes still glowing with excitement.</p><p>“She came up to deliver Laura’s blood samples. I was grinning like an idiot the whole time, I couldn’t help it, I was so surprised and pleased to see her.” Tom said.</p><p>“How is she?” I asked, a bit amused, though genuinely interested. I felt so grateful that Laura had someone like Gabriela in her life.</p><p>“She's ok, well, she seemed a bit worried, but that’s normal when you work for Transigen.” Tom said before adding cautiously, “You’re probably going to kill me for this.”</p><p>“Why? What happened?” I asked, becoming a bit restless.</p><p>Tom sighed and I heard him open the refrigerator door. “I’m so used to calling Laura by her name now that I forgot I wasn’t supposed to know it. I saw Gabriela holding the safety transport box and instead of saying something like, ‘Oh, you brought X-23's samples’ I said, ‘Oh, you brought <em>Laura’s</em> samples.’”</p><p>“Oh, my God. What did she do? <em>What did she say?” </em></p><p>“Well, she became suspicious when I said Laura’s name–obviously—but then she changed her expression and assumed it was her chatty friend, Valeria, who’d told me the child’s name.”</p><p>“That was close.” I breathed.</p><p>“She was nice and all, but I could tell she didn’t like that I had that kind of information about Laura. You were right, she overprotects the girl. I’ve never seen any of the other nurses react like that.”</p><p>“See? I told you. She adooooores her.” I said, the echo of my excitement still in my voice.</p><p>“She does” he muttered. Tom was cooking, I could hear the sound of plastic bags being manipulated, as well as knives cutting vegetables on a chopping board. I really missed his food. </p><p>“And what do they want Laura’s blood for?” I inquired then. </p><p>“Ah, that!” he answered casually, tossing something in a frying pan. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing to do with Laura --at least not directly-- it’s only that their new project got stuck and they need to run more tests. They’re having trouble identifying the genes responsible for certain mutant phenotypes.”</p><p>“Is that good news or bad news?”</p><p>“It’s bad news for them but good news for us. It means they’ll have to keep relying on the X-23 program, at least for now… which brings us to the next point.” he spoke the words warily and slowly and I mentally prepared myself for the blow to come.</p><p>“Now what?” I asked in a tired voice.</p><p>“Laura’s surgery will take place in two weeks.”</p><p>Tom waited, listening for my reaction, but the silence stretched, so he kept talking. “Don’t worry, I made sure the substance that will inhibit her healing factor is safe—I swear to God it is.”</p><p>“But she’s so small…” I trailed off, before swallowing hard. I hated it when he told me not to worry about Laura. Of course I was going to worry! Nobody should ask a mother to stay calm when her child is going to be cut open, especially when she can’t be there to explain the situation and provide some love and comfort for her baby.</p><p>“I know. But I took all the necessary precautions; they wanted to do it this week, but I managed to convince the surgeons to ask for X-rays, a well-child check-up, and her pediatrician’s approval before performing the surgery.”</p><p>“<em>What?” </em>I snapped, feeling my anger rear up. “They were going to skip those steps? They’re supposed to do all that!”</p><p>“Not when the patient has a healing factor."</p><p>"But she won't have a healing factor!" I practically shouted. </p><p>"That's why they agreed to do it. It's all very stupid, I know, but I need you to trust me.” Tom persisted. “Do you trust me?”</p><p>“Of course I trust you! It’s them I don’t trust!” I shouted, as I simultaneously realized that he was doing everything he could to help Laura. But these fuckers… <em>how could they be so inhumane?</em> “Look, I’m sorry.” I murmured, running a hand through my hair as I tried to refocus myself. “It’s the stress talking. Thank you for taking these precautions. Will…will you be in the room during the surgery?” I asked hopefully.</p><p>“No, I have no reason to be there and if I continue to make odd requests they might get suspicious. I’m sorry” he replied.</p><p>Just as I was about to voice my disappointment, I heard footsteps behind me and turned around. Gabrielle was running up to me.</p><p>“Hey!” I exclaimed, forcing a smile to hide what I really felt as the girl put her arms around my waist. “Daddy is back and we’re about to have lunch, well, I’ll have ice-cream. Would you like to join us? You didn’t finish your food” she offered, looking up at me expectantly through wide eyes.</p><p>Her spontaneous embrace sent a wave of tenderness up my spine. It had been years since I’d received a random demonstration of affection from a child, and I suddenly found myself missing my daughter terribly.</p><p>“Ok, <em>nena</em>. I’ll be there in a minute. Thank you.” I replied, my voice shaking a little.</p><p>The girl turned around and back into the house enthusiastically. I waited until she was out of sight to speak again.</p><p>“Sorry about that.” I muttered, returning the phone to my ear. “<em>Umm.</em> I have to go. My host family is waiting for me.”</p><p>“Oh, ok. Is everything all right? You sound a bit…” he began, but I cut him off.</p><p>“Everything’s fine. I just…never mind.” I trailed off, taking a deep breath as I blinked back a few tears. “Will you call me again soon?”</p><p>“Yes, sweetheart. I’ll call you immediately if I have news. Try to relax and get some rest, everything will turn out fine. I’ll keep an eye on your baby girl—no one is going to harm her, ok?”</p><p>“Ok.” I barely managed, taking another deep breath as my mind drifted off to the bottle of Jack in Lori’s glass cabinet and the clonazepam tablets I had in my bag.</p><p> </p><p>Having lunch with the King family was surprisingly pleasant. Despite having grown up in a society where families sit together every day for meals, I’d forgotten what it felt like. The laughs, the easy conversation, the lack of hurry. I could get used to this again.</p><p>“Everyone here is an incredible cook” Lori said when I complimented her curry. “The closest restaurant is fifteen miles away, so we have to make our own food.”</p><p>“I can’t cook.” I muttered, feeling myself go red. I never worried about domestic duties during my childhood and adolescence because we had <em>Rosita </em>and <em>Juana</em>, the lovely women who would clean the house and cook for us. I could have learned to prepare my own meals when I lived on my own, but that period of my life was a shitty mess and the last thing I cared about was maintaining a healthy diet. I would eat almost anything as long as it was food, and relied too much on food trucks, convenience stores, and restaurants.</p><p>“Well, then you better learn, <em>chica</em>. Kids need to eat.” Paul said, sliding the bowl of rice my way.</p><p>“Yeah, I know.” I muttered, making a face as I realized what he’d said. I was always so worried about getting my kid back that I never really thought about all the little, everyday things.</p><p>Paul snorted, arching a brow at me. “Raising children in a refugee camp is tough.”</p><p>Throughout the course of our meal, the conversation drifted back and forth onto many topics. Sometimes it focused on our families, other times it shifted over to our neighbors, but in time it was all about my previous life in Mexico. I kept the conversation casual and cool—diverting their attention to Mexico’s beaches, colonial towns, big cities, and food—so that they wouldn’t start asking questions about Laura, like Anna had done. I’d learned my lesson from earlier.</p><p>Gabrielle’s curiosity was still in high gear and she begged me to show her a picture of Laura, whom she already considered a friend. Smiling at her enthusiasm, I reached into my jean pocket once more and handed her the small photo –still relieved that Anna had let me keep it—but unlike the mutant, Gabrielle and her parents just smiled and said things like, <em>‘What a pretty girl’</em> or <em>‘She has your eyes’</em>. Nothing special or weird.</p><p>As we picked up the plates and began to wash the dishes, Paul announced that the neighbors had agreed to start the construction of my cabin next week. Many hands were needed for such a task and they usually brought help from a nearby town.</p><p>“We’ve worked with these people before. We trust them” he assured me.</p><p>At that, I experienced an insane rush of gratitude toward this man and his amazing family. It was so strong I decided to spend the rest of the day hanging out with them, especially with the energetic Gabrielle, who’d asked me to help her feed the horses and pigs.</p><p>Even if I’d told myself that everything was possible now, in this new life, my first night in Eden was far from easy. It wasn’t until later, in my solitude, that my mind began to wander. I lay awake in the dark guest room, thinking about my parents and all I’d left behind, but mostly, about Laura’s surgery. I couldn’t help but view it as a punishment she didn’t deserve, and I prayed that she wouldn’t hear things like <em>‘we’ll put you to sleep’, ‘make an opening’,</em> <em>‘remove’,</em> or the frightening word <em>‘cut’</em> prior to the operation. Most of my anxiety came from that painful memory of the day she was born; the doctors’ behavior had been extremely insensitive, cruel, and inhuman. I didn’t want her to experience the despair of being left at the mercy of those faceless, look-alike monsters.</p><p>I rolled over on my side and closed my eyes, wishing for a moment that I could simply get up and ask Gabrielle to make me fall asleep. I couldn’t get rid of dark thoughts, but I could at least try to bring to mind all those good things that had happened today. I was finally in Eden.</p><p>I couldn’t give up hope now.</p><p>++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++</p><p>I would describe life in Eden as being trapped in one of those village scene paintings where dwellers go about their daily routine while looking happy and satisfied: farmers harvesting their crops for the year, lush green fields, blue skies. In short, the simplicity of life.</p><p>I think this was what I needed in my life, a strong sense of community. I’d spent too many years trying to survive, isolated, an outsider in my own home. Even when a person is alone, they know there are thousands of other people somewhere, carrying on with their lives. That’s what makes solitude so painful. In Eden, you had to give and receive, there was no other way. Shutting yourself off from the world was not an option. I set about transforming myself, I would go on long walks through the pine trees, reassessing my past, making arrangements for a new future, growing a different understanding of life and my place within.</p><p>Throughout the next weeks I spent most of my time reading, taking an online genetics course, and teaching Spanish to Gabrielle. It wasn’t long before other parents asked me to do the same for their children, so I ended up teaching at the school. Managing classes with children of different ages –and mutations—was hard, not to mention that a couple of them were not exactly easy to deal with. However, I felt like I was receiving more than I gave; working with these children had opened my mind and heart. I would usually think about saving Laura, getting her to safety was all I wanted, but now, I was just as worried about the rest of the children at Transigen. They were not invisible to me anymore; they were Laura’s family.</p><p>Daniela and Yezenia were often on my mind. If they’d had the opportunity to look at their babies, they would have loved them too --or maybe not-- but at least they would have wanted a good life for them.</p><p>As I was harvesting tomatoes for tonight’s dinner –Lori was teaching me to cook— under the morning sunshine, I kept thinking about Tom’s last phone call three days ago. He’d been quite busy during the week catching up on a lot of paperwork. According to him, everyone was making too many mistakes and the quality of the work in the lab was dangerously compromised. <em>‘It seems like life in the underground facility is getting chaotic.’ </em>he’d said. Nurse Valeria had told him that the children had recently discovered the X-Men comic books and gone crazy about them, which could only mean that Gabriela had opened the box and shared the comics with the kids.</p><p>I smiled at the idea of Laura and her friends finally seeing what they could become. Most children in Eden owned X-Men action figures and costumes, it wasn’t rare to see a four-year-old Wolverine or an eight-year-old Phoenix running around the gardens, pretending to have the same powers as their heroes. Every child in Eden looked up at the X-Men, and, occasionally, at some of the villains too. I hoped Logan wasn’t one of those jealous dads because Laura would surely impress all the little boys with her ‘<em>Wolverine</em> <em>claws’</em>, as the kids liked to call them.</p><p>And just as the word <em>claws</em> was crossing my mind, my phone vibrated once. I wiped my hands on my jeans and quickly reached inside my pocket.</p><p>
  <strong>Laura's in the operating room. I'll call you when it's over. -Tom</strong>
</p><p>I stared at the phone for a long minute as a cold sweat seemed to form over all of my body. I felt light-headed and sick to my stomach. I stood up slowly, picking up the basket full of tomatoes and crossed the garden into Lori’s cabin. She was currently washing some vegetables in the sink.</p><p>“Oh, thanks” she said when I put the basket on the counter, but instead of replying I bounded into the bathroom and carefully splashed some cold water on my face. Now I was tired, almost too tired to lift my head. As I was doing this there was a light knock at the door.</p><p>“Are you ok?” Lori’s worried voice came from the other side. “Can I come in?”</p><p>“Yeah” I managed, moving away from the sink. Lori entered the small bathroom, still wearing her apron.</p><p>“What happened? You’ve gone pale!” Lori exclaimed, studying my face. I really didn’t want to handle this on my own, and for a stupid fraction of a second I thought about telling the woman that my child was undergoing surgery, but I knew she would immediately ask the obvious question ‘<em>Doesn’t she heal?’ </em>and I would have to tell more lies.</p><p>“Sometimes I get dizzy, nothing to worry about.” I replied quietly, leaning against the wall.</p><p>At that she cocked an eyebrow and began to grin.</p><p>“What?” I asked confusedly, forgetting my discomfort for a moment. “No! That’s not what—I’m not pregnant!” I exclaimed, slightly horrified, as I walked past her into the living room.</p><p>“Are you sure?” she asked softly.</p><p>“Yeah. I didn’t have any breakfast, that’s all.” I sighed heavily, plopping down on the sofa.</p><p>She went into the kitchen and brought me a glass of orange juice, two aspirins, and an apple, before sitting across from me. “Honey, you look terrible. I think you have a fever.”</p><p>“No, no. I’m fine.” I mumbled, drinking a heavy gulp of orange juice. I didn’t have a fever, it was an anxiety attack: pounding heart, sweating, dizziness, shortness of breath. I knew the symptoms well. </p><p>“Whatever. I think you should go to your room and rest. I’ll cover your class, you can’t teach like this.” Lori said firmly as she got me a blanket.</p><p>Five minutes later I was in my room, digging into my bag for a box of clonazepam. I took a double dose and went to stand by the window. I got it open to let some air in. It was probably the most beautiful morning I’d seen since I’d arrived. The sun was beating down on the fields, gardens, and cabins. Mine was currently under construction, it would be finished in two weeks. I’d chosen a spot surrounded by pine trees, close to the barn and riding stable. I could easily picture Laura standing in the warm summer sun with her nose pressed to the fence, watching the horses prancing around the field. </p><p>The images began to replace the chill in my veins with sweet warmth. They were spilling out of my mind and taking on a life of their own as the medicine reached the bloodstream. I clenched my teeth, my brain was playing tricks on me. It was like flipping through a photo album not knowing if it was mine or someone else’s life. I had to remind myself that the images were just an illusion, embellished and unreliable thoughts.</p><p>I was aware of time passing. These episodes were just another shortcoming on a long list of my other countless deficiencies. I moved my legs, they responded, barely, but they responded, and sat on the small bed. There was a spark of memory, it ignited, but then began to die. I refused to be pulled away, I followed the colors, attaching myself to the memory that had started out like a domino piece being pushed, but then the monsters appeared.</p><p>First I remembered the bright lights and the blood.</p><p>Then I remembered the silence, the darkness.</p><p>Laura. <em>Oh, God</em>. She was dead.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>**"Tomorrow", Avril Lavigne.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. THE WOMAN AND THE CLONE</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <em>**"If you're ready, heart is open</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>I'll be waiting, come find me</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>If you're searching for forever</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>I'll be waiting, come find me."</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>I sat up abruptly.</p><p>My phone was beeping loudly somewhere in the room. I rubbed my eyes and looked around frantically before jumping out of bed. My head went heavy as a melon, pulling me off balance, buckling my knees, almost dragging me toward the floor. After a few seconds my mind cleared and my vision focused on the small phone lying on the floor. I quickly picked it up and held it to my ear.</p><p>“Is she ok?” The words rushed from my lips as I innerly cursed myself for falling asleep.</p><p>“She is.” Tom answered flatly.  “The surgery was a success. I just talked with one of the surgeons and he said she’s recovering.”</p><p>“But?” I asked quietly, obviously knowing that he wasn’t completely satisfied with the results.</p><p>“Laura woke up before her healing factor had returned to normal and she panicked. That shouldn’t have happened, I must have done something wrong.”</p><p>“No, don’t—” I began, but my words were cut short.</p><p>“And she gave the anesthesiologists a hard time. The poor girl was screaming and crying and trying to run away—<em>Oh, God</em>.” His voice broke a bit at that as the wall of guilt he’d been pushing away for months slammed into his chest. He was trying hard to gather himself. “Gabriela managed to control her before the doctors had to call the guards. It was a disaster…<em>I can’t… I cannot work here anymore.” </em>Tom stammered.</p><p>I said nothing because there was nothing to say. I was hurting inside, but voicing out my feelings would only make him feel worse, and none of this had been his fault. There was a strange silence for a few moments, and then Tom spoke again. </p><p>“Laura’s sleeping right now. She passed out from exhaustion.”</p><p>“Tom…” I whispered.</p><p>“I'm fucking getting paid for doing this.” he muttered bitterly, then he took a deep breath and added, “Sorry, I need some space.”</p><p>“Tom!” I shouted before he could hang up.</p><p>“What?” he growled.</p><p>“I’m sorry…for everything. It means a lot to me, you being there for her.” I murmured.</p><p>“Stay safe. I’ll call you later.” he simply said and then the line went dead.</p><p><em>We can’t both shatter at the same time, </em>I thought, glancing around the room. I discovered a spilled glass of water trickling off the nightstand top, my notes scattered across the floor, my blouse clammy and damp. I had not fallen asleep earlier, I had fainted.</p><p>Ten seconds later I found myself crossing the small field toward my unfinished cabin. I stopped at my doorstep and sighed. Despite the unstable state of my insides, I took a moment to appreciate how good it looked before stepping in. The wood was damp by the recent storm, filling my senses with a delicious aroma.</p><p>I sat on the floor and leaned against the nearest wall. My head was spinning with thoughts.</p><p>
  <em>She panicked. Panicked how? Was she crying? Was she screaming? Was she shocked? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I shouldn't have left her behind again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tom didn’t want to hurt Laura, but he would if they asked him to. He’d do anything to keep his mom safe.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Time let her grow, she learned to speak, lost a milk tooth, then another and another. She got stronger, her movements surer. Time separated her from me. The time that should have been mine.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The other parents hadn't been able to hide their amusement when I told them I had a 10 year old daughter, some of them thought I was joking. I didn't look the part. It was too obvious I didn't know anything about raising children. What was I going to do if she came back to me? Was I going to parade my child? Use her to boost my own confidence by making the neighbors think I was capable of being a mother? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She was exhausted. So was I.</em>
</p><p>There was a small, warm hand resting on my shoulder, someone was touching my hair, making me shiver. For a fraction of a second my desperate heart made me believe the impossible was possible. I didn’t want to turn my head and not find myself looking into the <em>right </em>eyes.</p><p>“Miss?” a tiny voice whispered. “Why are you crying?”</p><p>Confused by the words I’d just heard, I put my hands on my face and realized it was tear-stained. I quickly wiped the tears off my cheeks and turned my eyes to the child. It was Victor, the five-year-old that liked to dress up as Wolverine. He wasn’t a mutant, he was Alice’s little brother, a girl who could climb walls. My eyes traveled up the length of his little body, he was wearing the signature yellow leotard of his favorite hero. </p><p>A smile broke on my lips, it had a certain tightness and did not reach my eyes, but the triggering image of little Victor in <em>that</em> costume made me instinctively take him into my arms. His silky hair smelled like mint and his little body was warm and soft. It was not like hugging Gabrielle, this boy was small and fragile. I suddenly found myself missing something I never had.</p><p>"Why are you crying?” he asked once more, a bit concerned.</p><p>“Because I miss my daughter” I confessed, pushing him away from me gently.</p><p>He frowned at this. “Why isn’t she here with you?”</p><p>“Because…” I trailed off, struggling to find the answer to the question I asked myself every night. “Because she doesn’t know where I am.”</p><p>“Is she lost?” he inquired as his eyes moved across my face.</p><p>“Something like that.” I said quietly, pushing a curl out of his eyes. His mom thought he looked cute with long hair --and he did-- but those silky brown curls were constantly blocking his vision.</p><p>“Why don’t you go out and find her?” he asked, mildly exasperated.</p><p>“I tried.” I replied honestly, forgetting for a moment that I was speaking with a five-year-old.</p><p>He stared down at his little hands, thinking hard, keen to find a solution to my problem. After a few moments, he finally looked up at me with a smile on his face.</p><p>“Then she’ll have to find you.”</p><p>+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++</p><p>Victor’s innocent and wise words helped me get back on my feet. Without knowing, the boy had given me the key to understanding and accepting my current situation. I couldn’t go back to my country, I couldn’t go looking for my kid, I couldn’t help Tom, Logan, or Gabriela —my only job was to make a new home in this place, a forever home for my daughter and her friends, a safe place where they could feel loved and accepted.</p><p>For the following months Lori and I drove almost every weekend to the nearest city to get all kinds of things for my home. The families took turns to help me paint and decorate the rooms. I didn’t know what Laura’s favorite color was, so instead of choosing one, I asked them to help me paint a mural on the walls of her room. Lori suggested an unspoiled paradise full of trees and animals.</p><p>“We’re in Eden, aren’t we?” she’d said.</p><p>I liked her idea, but I also wanted it to have elements of our culture, and since I was good at drawing—and since Mexico was considered the most surrealist country in the world—I included fantastic animals, creatures, and trees inspired by Mexican surrealism.</p><p>No grown up can compete with a child’s imagination, so I let the kids put the finishing touches to our creation. “They’re mutants like us, and they too live in Eden!” Gabrielle had pointed out, admiring the final result. I guess she was right, mutant children were rare, magical, and surreal. That mural was the perfect metaphor.</p><p>The oak wardrobe that the Yeung family had kindly made for Laura was now packed with the clothes I’d purchased during some of my trips to the city. I didn’t want to get it wrong, so I’d picked out leather jackets, jeans, skirts, T-shirts in every color, dozens of spring dresses, leggings, raincoats, combat boots, ballerina flats, chucks, sandals, bows, headbands, and every single accessory a girl might wish for. I wanted to get lots of toys too, but the room was small, so I'd only bought an American Girl doll with a prancing horse and saddle set, two puzzles, a scooter, Legos, and four X-Men action figures. As for books, I'd gotten a couple of fairy tales because I knew she liked those, but also some of my favorites like Macbeth, Brave New World, and The Count of Montecristo. Maybe we could read together every night before going to bed. I certainly wasn’t as expressive and imaginative as Gabriela, but we would enjoy it anyway.</p><p>Once the cabin was ready, I moved in. I loved every single detail about it. I couldn’t wait to see toys on the kitchen floor, cups on the counter, a bowl of fruit on the table, little shoes under my bed, chairs out of place, chocolate finger marks on the sofa…I couldn’t wait for it to look like a <em>home.</em></p><p>I was cleaning the windows as I hummed -- something I hadn’t done in years— when my phone beeped once. I unlocked it and set my eyes on the messages.</p><p>
  <strong>Good news first, or bad news? –Tom</strong>
</p><p>I rolled my eyes as I pecked out a reply. The <em>bad news</em> couldn’t be so bad or he would have called.</p><p>
  <strong>Bad news —Sarah</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Their new experiment is back on track. I’m trying to figure out a way to sneak into the lab where they keep it.—Tom</strong>
</p><p>I felt a pang of fear. That meant we were running out of time.</p><p>
  <strong>Fuck. What’s the good news? --Sarah</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>I heard that the children are becoming difficult.—Tom</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>I saw it coming ages ago. Are you sure that’s good? --Sarah</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>I think it is. It means they don’t want to be soldiers. Guess what? --Tom</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>?? -Sarah</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Laura’s favourite toy is a rubber ball. Isn’t that cute? --Tom</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Maybe it’s the only toy she has. It is cute though, kinda reminds me of that U2 song.—Sarah</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>True! I love that song. I’ll ask Valeria to get one for me.—Tom</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Aren’t you a bit old to play with rubber balls? -Sarah</strong>
</p><p><strong>I’ll put it in Laura’s bag. And I’m not old :(</strong> <strong> –Tom</strong></p><p>
  <strong>Sorry hahahaha, and thanks for thinking of Laura. –Sarah</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Do they know the truth yet? –Tom</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>No. –Sarah</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>I think it’s time. Don’t you? –Tom</strong>
</p><p>I didn’t reply because I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t told Lori the truth because I wanted to speak with Anna first, but she hadn’t shown up again, not once. Besides, that mysterious first encounter was still haunting me, and I needed to find out more about her before spilling the beans about Transigen and the children. I had to keep the upper hand.</p><p>Later that day, I did everything to force myself to concentrate on the Spanish class, but it was impossible, and in the end I just had to let the children go fifteen minutes earlier, much to their delight. </p><p>I stuffed my books and notebooks back in my bag and headed to Lori’s cabin. I found her cleaning the kitchen, dressed in denim shorts and a plaid T-shirt, her hair tied back in a ponytail. There was baking powder everywhere. Fresh chocolate cookies and jam tarts covered the small table.</p><p>“Sarah!” she smiled, half-turning. “How was the class?”</p><p>“Good. The children are wonderful.” I said, collecting some empty bowls from the counter and putting them in the kitchen sink. “Gabrielle asked me to tell you that she’ll be late for dinner.”</p><p>“Horses?” Lori guessed.</p><p>“Yep. Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on her. I can see the riding stable from my window.” I assured her, running a dish under the water.</p><p>“Thanks, not all parents are lucky enough to have a kid with a healing factor.” she laughed lightly. “Are you comfortable in your new home?”</p><p>“More than comfortable. It’s perfect.” I replied, staring down at the dirty dishes.</p><p>“But?” Lori asked quizzically, and I barely shrugged my shoulders.</p><p>“Oh, I see. It’s too quiet.” she said knowingly. “I feel you girl, when Gabrielle sleeps over at Alice’s I miss her...well, except when Paul and I need some privacy. It’s exasperating when your daughter can hear practically every sound coming from her parents’ room.”</p><p>I burst out in laughter at the innuendo. It had never crossed my mind that the cabins were a bit…too small.</p><p>“Come on” Lori laughed, sounding oddly embarrassed. “We’ve all been there. I’ll bet you miss Tom too.” she added playfully through a wink.</p><p>“Shut up.” I muttered, blushing.</p><p>“Admit it.” she said, toying with me a bit as she took a bite of one of her chocolate cookies.</p><p>I sighed. </p><p>“I do, ok?” I replied, turning to face her.</p><p>“Good.” Lori smiled, satisfied.</p><p>I continued washing the dishes in silence, knowing full well that I had to stop stalling.</p><p>“Umm…when is Anna coming? I only saw her once.” I asked at last, changing the subject.</p><p>At this, Lori’s smile dropped, and she frowned. “I don’t know. It’s impossible to tell where she is or what she’s doing. Most of the time she has to go incognito and we don’t hear much from her for months. Searching for mutants can be tricky.”</p><p>“Does she have a family?” I inquired, rinsing the last glass.</p><p>“No…I don’t know.” Lori replied, genuinely puzzled, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “She doesn’t talk much about her private life. But she always looks kinda sad, don’t you think?”</p><p>“I do, that’s why I’m asking.” I said gently. “She’s a very mysterious woman.”</p><p>“Tell me about it.” Lori snorted.</p><p>It seemed like we were both on the same page. That gave me the courage to tell her about the photo incident.</p><p>“You know, the day I met her she asked to see a picture of Laura.” I began, drying my hands with a kitchen cloth before taking a seat across from her. “So I showed her the photo I always keep in my pocket…” I trailed off, remembering Anna’s reaction. “…but something weird happened, she looked at it and the expression on her face changed completely.”</p><p>“Changed how?” Lori asked, confused.</p><p>“It’s hard to describe… she was kind of searching for something. She was scrutinizing Laura’s face, and for one second I thought she wanted my girl all to herself —it’s stupid, I know.” I added, rolling my eyes. “But then I felt bad for her. Did she lose a child? That’s the only explanation I could come up with.”</p><p>Lori shook her head, suddenly somber. “<em>Jesus</em>, I hope not.”</p><p>I waited.</p><p>She folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them as she spoke. “Listen, I might be wrong, but I think she was disappointed.”</p><p>“Disappointed?”</p><p>She smiled at the shocked tone of my voice. I had the impression that Lori had never trusted someone enough to talk about Anna. When the mysterious woman wasn’t here, it was Lori and Paul who ran Eden, so maybe talking behind her back felt wrong.</p><p>“Well, we’re good friends and I trust you, so I think it’s ok to tell you this.” Lori went on. She sighed, and when she spoke again her voice was different.</p><p>“Two or three months after Eden was inaugurated, I found Anna in her office…she was horrifically drunk.”</p><p>“What?” I blurted out.</p><p>“She was devastated, shattered. It was difficult, but, eventually, she managed to tell me why she was so upset. Turned out she was friends with some of the mutants who died in Westchester and she was feeling guilty for not having been there when the accident occurred. <em>Survivor's guilt</em>, you know…”</p><p>Her words sent chills through me. It was as if Lori was describing a chapter of my life. Anna and I were not that different after all.</p><p>“Some of them were the X-Men.” Lori clarified when she saw my puzzled expression.</p><p>I stared at her, perplexed. “Anna knew the X-Men? How?”</p><p>“She worked for a while at Xavier’s Institute. You see, she didn’t tell me much that night—even when she’s drunk she closes herself off—but did mention that she was particularly fond of one of them, he was a close friend…<em>or maybe something more</em>.” Lori muttered, her lips twitching into a hint of a smile.</p><p>“Who?” I asked curiously, leaning towards her.</p><p>“Wolverine”</p><p>My eyes went wide.</p><p>“What? Logan?” his name escaped my lips before I could even react. <em>Oh, no, no, no.</em> I needed a moment to collect my thoughts, but Lori kept talking.</p><p>“Yeah, it didn’t make any sense, I thought he was immortal. Anna must have known something about him to believe that he’d actually died.” Lori said assuredly. “Anyway, I was with her the night you contacted us—we were in her office discussing some stuff about the school— and when you said that your daughter had a healing factor her face lit up. I swear to God I saw a sparkle in her eyes, no joke. Maybe she had the slightest hope that your kid would be related to him. I’m making a ridiculous assumption, I know, but we all have silly hopes when we’re grieving the loss of a loved one.” She was thoughtful for a moment, and then she shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe she was disappointed when she saw the photo and realized that she’d been wishing for the impossible.”</p><p><em>Mierda…mierda…puta madre. </em>Anna’s behavior made sense now. <em>‘I never thought I would get to see a mutant with that ability again' </em>she’d said when I'd mentioned Laura’s healing factor. I figured she was referring to Logan –he was way too popular, an idol—but I never imagined that she actually <em>knew</em> him, that they were…<em>close</em>.</p><p>This changed everything. I needed to talk with Anna right now; I needed to tell her the truth. She had to know that Logan was alive and then help him bring Laura. She wouldn’t –<em>she couldn’t</em> refuse. </p><p>“Lori, do you have her number?” I asked urgently. “I need to call her. I need to see her.”</p><p>“Why? Is everything alright?” she asked, suddenly wary.</p><p>“No” I admitted, and Lori was a bit taken aback by my honesty. “I promise to tell you, but I need to talk with her first. It’s very urgent.” My voice was passionate. I was staring intently at her.</p><p>Lori nodded, mildly perplexed, as she slowly stood up. “Yeah, let’s go to her office, we can use her phone.”</p><p>As soon as she pronounced the words, I jumped to my feet and we and hurried to Anna’s office. Lori opened her desk drawer and pulled out the same leather notebook I’d seen before.</p><p>“Her number is on the first page.” she said, placing it on the desk. “I’ll leave you to it.” Lori murmured, still confused, but offering her support nonetheless.</p><p>I waited for her to close the door before opening the notebook. There was a phone number and a name.</p><p>“Miss D’Ancanto.” I muttered to myself.</p><p><em>D’Ancanto</em>… I’d seen that name before…</p><p>I stood motionless, as if struck by lightning. A second later, comprehension came, and I gasped in shock.</p><p>
  <em>Fuck.</em>
</p><p>“Lori! Lori!” I shouted as I ran down the corridor. She hadn’t even reached the school’s front door yet.</p><p>She stopped and turned around. “What is it?” she asked with a worried voice.</p><p>I caught up with her, trying to catch my breath. “Does Anna have another name?”</p><p>Lori looked at me thoughtfully, then gave a nod. “Yeah, Marie.”</p><p>“Why didn’t you tell me before!” I exclaimed, incredulous, running a hand through my hair in exasperation.</p><p>“Tell you what!” she whined loudly, slightly irritated.</p><p>“That she was Rogue!”</p><p>Lori was silent as that sunk in. “Rogue? Rogue who?” she finally stammered. “One of X-Men?”</p><p>“Yes, that Rogue!” I insisted.</p><p>“She can’t be Rogue, they all died!”</p><p>“Well, she didn’t! This is Rogue’s real name!” I said loudly, pointing feverishly at the notebook. “D’Ancanto! Anna Marie D’Ancanto!”</p><p>She frowned and snatched it from my hands before looking at the surname. “I didn’t know that. I thought Rogue's real name was Rogue.” she mumbled, a baffled look on her face.</p><p>My eyes narrowed. I was about to tell her that nobody could be enclosed in a place full of X-Men fans and ignore that Rogue’s name was Anna Marie D’Ancanto, but then I remembered that it was never mentioned in the comic books, just like Logan’s. I knew that his real name was James Howlett because Dr. Macey had said it while I was in Transigen and because it was written in Laura’s file. I must have discovered Rogue’s name when I was doing my research about the X-Men long ago.</p><p>I was shaking my head. “No, you’re right. Nobody knows that because…” I began, but I got interrupted by the sound of my phone beeping.</p><p>“Hey” I said, answering Tom’s call. “Can you call me back in an hour or two…”</p><p>“It’s happening” he cut me off, clearly agitated. “I saw it, I filmed it on my phone.”</p><p>“What are you talking about? I asked.</p><p>“They have it in a lab on the fifth floor. I managed to sneak in, Dr. Rice was there.” Tom managed, breathing heavily. “They cloned Logan! They have the body parts in glass tanks! It’s a fucking…soulless thing…<em>it’s not human</em>! We were right all along, they’re going to replace the children!”</p><p>I almost dropped the phone. Unlike the other times when his bad news had triggered a panic attack, this time I was having a fight or flight response. My brain was working quickly, slowing down time.</p><p><em>Laura is in danger, think, think. </em>I urged myself.</p><p>“Give the footage to Gabriela, she has to know!” I shouted, glancing briefly at Lori’s puzzled expression. “Leave another box on her doorstep, tell her to get the car! She has to be ready, it’s going to happen any day now!”</p><p>As I spoke, I heard his hurried footsteps and then an engine roar to life. “She’ll have it in her hands tomorrow morning. I need to go home and download the video. Stay safe.”</p><p>“Tom!” I yelled, before he could end the call.</p><p>“Yes?” he muttered, distractedly, obviously focused on the road.</p><p>I hesitated, experiencing guilt and remorse for what I was about to say. “If it happens before you can warn me, please remember that her life is in your hands. Try to save as many of them as you can, but she…I mean…” I trailed off, not daring to finish the sentence.</p><p>“I promise.” he whispered, knowing exactly what I meant.</p><p>“Thank you” I simply said before ending the call.</p><p>I put the phone back in my pocket, aware that Lori was waiting for an explanation. She eyed me for a moment.</p><p>“Was that your husband?” Lori asked carefully, peeking at my reaction.</p><p>I nodded in response, but then I looked down and shook my head.</p><p>“Thomas Kinney is not my husband, Lori.” I confessed, feeling abashed. “There’s something you need to know.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>**"Find me", Birdy.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. FROM THE GROUND TO THE SKY</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <em>**"I know sometimes you're feeling lost</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>It's hard to find your place in it all</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>But you don't have to fear</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Even when you mess up</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>You always got my love</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>I'm always right here"</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>I felt like a teenager who'd just received an after school detention. The sky was getting darker, the village was silent. I was seated on Paul and Lori’s light-gray sofa. They were staring at me, half irritated, half struck with disbelief, listening to a complete stranger’s life story. Yes, I was a stranger to them now.</p><p>“You will be our guest for the next twenty-four hours until we can check out some of the details of your story. Do you understand?” Paul asked politely, glancing briefly at his wife, who was strangely relaxed, sitting in a chair. She had not said a word since I’d begun to tell them all about my past. I tried to read the expression in her eyes several times, but all I could see was thoughtfulness.</p><p>I sighed. “Yes”</p><p>Paul nodded absently from his place by the door. “So, Tom isn’t Laura’s father?” he asked, nibbling nervously on his fingernails.</p><p>“No, he isn’t” I muttered through another sigh. He’d asked that question twice now.</p><p>Paul nodded once more. “She is…”</p><p>“Logan’s daughter, yes.” I cut him off.</p><p>He frowned as he processed that for a moment. “But you’ve never seen her? Ever? Not once?” he pressed.</p><p>“No, Paul. I’ve never seen my own kid. She was taken away from me when she was born --I’ve never seen Logan either.” I added before he could ask the same question again.</p><p>“Ok” he said simply. </p><p>I sat in silence, waiting patiently, but after a few moments the growing tension got unbearable. I leaned back on the sofa and pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes.</p><p>“I’m sorry, I’m terribly sorry I lied to you, ok?” I muttered, desperate to get their trust back. “But I was just trying to protect my daughter. I had to make sure that you were not--”</p><p>“--that we were not <em>what</em>? That we were not child traffickers? That we were not a cult? <em>Come on!</em>” Lori finally snapped, breaking out of her reverie.</p><p>“I trusted you and all the other families from the beginning Lori, but Anna’s -<em>-Marie’s--</em> absence and mysterious attitude were making me uncomfortable. Had I known who she really was, I would have told you everything long ago!”</p><p>“Right” Lori said defensively, folding her arms across her chest.</p><p>“Please, you have to believe me, I just needed to talk with her first, make sure her good intentions were genuine before telling her about Transigen. It’s a delicate matter, Lori, you have no idea what those people are capable of. Just a few months ago they put adamantium in my kid’s body, she was traumatized and there was nothing I could do to help her!” I said loudly, not being able to keep the emotion out of my voice anymore.</p><p>I waited for them to say something, but they just stared at me, confusion and irritation still flickering across their faces.</p><p>“<em>Well, fuck this!”</em> I shouted out in anger and frustration, pointing a finger at them. “You don’t know anything! You don’t know!”</p><p>“We don’t know what?” Lori grumbled, her unblinking eyes locked on mine.</p><p>“You don’t know what it feels like to be away from your kid! You don’t know what it’s like to see a video of your girl getting tortured! You don’t know what it’s like to hear <em>them</em> scold her nurse because she gave the child a hug, a kiss!” I suddenly realized I had stood up, I couldn’t feel my feet, my face was rigid with agony. I was shaking so badly I could hardly speak. “They treat her like a…thing. They make her feel insignificant, and worthless, and stupid.” I hissed as Paul and Lori exchanged a quick glance. “And I live in constant fear and anxiety, wondering if she’s scared, or if she’s hungry, or if she’s alone in a dark cell…I don’t even want to imagine all the possible ways they may have abused her already… a ten-year-old girl, <em>for fuck’s sake</em>!” I spat, struggling to control my sobs as I sank back into the sofa, burying my head in my hands. “At times I have these thoughts…and I hate myself then…” I whispered through a sob, hardly recognizing my own voice. “Sometimes I find myself wishing she had really died when she was born. And I hate myself for that!”</p><p>I was preparing myself for their reaction, for more accusations, for shouting. But instead, Lori rose up from the chair and sat beside me on the sofa, wrapping her arm around my shoulders.</p><p>“I’m sorry” she whispered gently, rubbing my back. “I am a mother too, I understand.”</p><p>“I just want her back.” I muttered, looking up at her; the all too familiar pain constricting my voice. “I never meant to lie to you. I’m sorry.” I whispered.</p><p>“Don’t apologize, girl. We understand.” Paul said quietly, his eyes full of pity as he came closer.</p><p>Lori gently grabbed my face with both of her hands and wiped the tears from my cheeks with her thumbs. “We are here for you, ok? You and your baby girl are not alone anymore.”</p><p>I offered her a sad smile, using my sleeve to wipe the fresh tears rolling down my face. “Thank you”</p><p>I heard Paul clear his throat, probably swallowing his emotions.</p><p>“So” he croaked, handing me a paper tissue, trying to help out. “There are more children coming along?” </p><p>“Yes… I hope so” I hesitated, composing myself, as I remembered the heartbreaking promise Tom had made hours before.</p><p>I watched Paul as he moved to the front door. “Anna has to know about this.”</p><p>Lori helped me stand and immediately wrapped her arm around my shoulder after doing so. Paul opened the door, it was already dark outside. The moonlight touched our faces as we walked towards the school. Some of the neighbors were out in their porches, sitting in rocking chairs, enjoying the night; others were having dinner inside their cabins or getting their children to sleep. Gabrielle was spending the night at Alice's, her parents had sent her there so they could hold me hostage.</p><p>“Why were you suddenly so desperate to call Anna this morning?” Lori questioned. “I mean, before Tom called you”</p><p>“Because I needed to tell her that Logan is alive. She has to find him and ask for his help”</p><p>“Right. I wish our kids were older so they could help too.” Lori was saying as we entered the school gates. “Don’t worry, Anna will know what to do.”</p><p>“Is your real name '<em>Sarah' </em>?” Paul asked curiously as he opened the school doors for us. I felt Lori’s eyes on me.</p><p>“Yes, it is.” I replied with confidence.</p><p>Lori smiled, her tension instantly diminishing.</p><p>“Sorry about the <em>hostage</em> bullshit.” Paul muttered apologetically. “Eden is a haven, not a prison.”</p><p>We stepped into Marie’s office and Paul wasted no time as he grabbed the elegant phone and started dialing the number. The phone kept ringing and ringing with no answer. He tried again. I couldn’t stand the suspense.</p><p>“Nothing. She won’t answer” he finally said, putting the phone down. “We’ll have to try every two or three hours until she does.”</p><p>“We should tell the others and take turns.” Lori suggested.</p><p>“Can’t we use our own phones?” I asked.</p><p>“No, she can only receive calls from this particular telephone. Anna is very careful. Actually, I don't know if you noticed, but your phone is partially blocked. You cannot share our location or send footage.” Paul replied.</p><p>“Oh, ok” I muttered, a little confused. </p><p>“Also, we have to do something about the refuge on the mountain top. We don’t know how many children we’ll be receiving and there are only two bunkbeds and no food.” Lori pointed out.  </p><p>“How long do we have?” Paul asked, deep concern saturating his voice.</p><p>My eyes flitted from the man to the woman and then back again. I was having trouble organizing my thoughts. “I don’t know. It could happen anytime.” I mumbled, remembering my conversation with Tom.</p><p>“Then we can’t wait for Anna’s approval.” Paul said quickly. “We have to be ready.”</p><p>+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++</p><p>
  <em>9:30 am. </em>
</p><p>
  <strong><em>It’s done. Gabriela has the box. --Tom</em> </strong>
</p><p>A rush of adrenaline shot through me as I read Tom’s text. All our efforts were about to be put to the test. We were at the school gym, where most of the parents had gathered to hear the baffling news. The rest of them were watching the children at the playground.</p><p>Paul’s speech was simple, practical, and meaningful: an American company was experimenting on mutant children in Mexico City. Said kids would hopefully get rescued in the next days and brought to Eden. He had previously asked me if I wanted him to mention some details about the children’s biological fathers and I’d said yes. First of all, the families deserved to know the whole story, and second, learning that some of these children were the offsprings of famous mutants might help the community get familiarized with them more quickly.</p><p>All the eyes were on me when Paul mentioned Laura’s real dad. His name drew a chorus of gasps and exclamations, and I knew I would be spending the next days answering curious questions.</p><p>After discussing the necessary arrangements that we would have to make in order to receive more children, we split up into two teams: team A would build a large cabin for the new kids, equip the school’s dining room and classrooms, and drive to the city to buy clothes, blankets, toiletries and other basic supplies. Team B would go to the mountain and equip the refuge cabin.</p><p>I was on team B.</p><p>The meeting lasted over four hours. The two teams were confident and enthusiastic as we left the gym, many of the parents offering words of support and encouragement.</p><p>
  <em>‘Wolverine! Wow, you must be so proud of your little girl!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘She’ll come back to you, don’t worry’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘If you need anything, just knock on our door’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘You did something very brave, girl’</em>
</p><p>For the first time in years I felt like I truly belonged. This was my new home.</p><p>I’d barely stepped into my cabin, completely exhausted, when I got Tom’s second text of the day.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>The car dealership owner just called. Gabriela picked up the car. –Tom</em> </strong>
</p><p>A grin washed over my face. That could only mean that she was aware of the danger and willing to save the children. <em>Hope.</em> It was a tiny flicker, but I had to nurture it.</p><p>I did not know how much later it was when I heard a light knock at my door. It was Helen, one of the single mothers, she’d come to tell me that tonight would be our turn to babysit the children while the rest of the parents made shopping lists, an inventory, and gave the cars a safety check.</p><p>About 8pm I went to the school’s gym to set up a projector to watch a movie with the kids. Some of them were babbling, others were staring intently at the screen, and others were eating snacks. Helen was on the far side of the gym, engrossed in a novel. I was currently sitting on the floor, holding little Victor on my lap. He’d been full of enthusiasm the first thirty minutes: laughing, gasping, and pointing to the screen non-stop, but then his childish body clock had betrayed him and he’d fallen asleep. I held him close to my chest and spent the rest of the movie watching him sleep. Having this sweet little boy around would often help me calm my nerves better than any whiskey, wine, or clonazepam tablets. I just realized there were few things as gratifying and heart-warming as watching a child sleep peacefully. It was practically irresistible.</p><p>My heart mourned over the moments with my own baby that I had missed. Children are tiny for only a fraction of the time mothers have with them. Transigen had damaged us beyond repair. They’d stolen everything. Almost eleven years on and the profound sense of loss and longing lingered, like the echoes of unanswered questions. At times, I was still indifferent to the happiness around me, lacking the concentration for sustained thought. I would often find myself daydreaming in fragments, without control, wishing to be powerful enough to make them pay for all this.</p><p>Victor whimpered in his sleep. I looked down at him, bewildered, and realized that I was holding him with force. In the blur of my fury, I had hurt him. I stood up, deeply ashamed, and crossed the gym before asking Helen to take him. </p><p>“I’ll be right back” I said dizzily as I slid the boy into her arms.</p><p>I went out into the cool night air and took a deep breath, innerly scolding myself for what I’d done. I thought I’d gotten over <em>this</em>. I was supposed to be putting my heart back together. I’d promised myself to stop running after her in my mind. I shouldn’t be aching for Laura, not when we finally had a good chance to be reunited.</p><p>I was here in the dark, the hope in me being replaced by a pain I found disconcerting. I was furious with myself. It was time to face yet another truth: not only had I lost a daughter, <em>I’d lost myself too, </em>and getting Laura back didn’t mean that I would instantly heal. I closed my eyes, my senses intensifying as I wondered if, once again, I would have to ask someone else to take my child, just like I’d asked Helen to take Victor a moment ago.</p><p>++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++</p><p>Team B had the toughest jobs. Definitely.</p><p>I spent the next three days climbing rocks, chopping wood, painting, and cleaning. The first trip to the refuge had been insufferable, I’d forgotten how scary and exhausting the climb was, and more than once I seriously considered quitting. Everyone agreed that more hands were needed, so Paul had to ask some people from a nearby town to help us get the mattresses, blankets, and other big items all the way up. Lori put some X-Men action figures and comic books on the shelves and I made sure that the radio and walkie talkies were functioning properly.</p><p>When we were not working on the refuge, we were either watching the children or taking turns to call Marie, even some kids had volunteered to stay in her office when all the grow ups were busy in case she called back. However, that never happened. I’d come to learn that mutants, especially the X-Men, possessed an amazing talent to hide away.</p><p>“She doesn’t want to be found, and you can bet she has a good reason” Lori had told me while we were making the beds.</p><p>Little by little the cabin began to look more like a refuge and less like a neglected shed. On the fourth day, we went up again to tidy up, discard some boxes, and stock the kitchen with non-perishable food items. Exhausted --but proud and satisfied-- Lori, Paul and I made our way back to the car.</p><p>It was almost midnight. I’d barely managed to slide into the back seat, my legs were trembling from the exercise and my eyelids felt heavy. We would be home in less than forty minutes, so there was no point in falling asleep. So, to entertain myself –and stay awake-- I reached into my shirt pocket and took out my phone.</p><p>“Stop the car!” I suddenly shouted, startling Paul and Lori, as I set my eyes on the screen. I had 45 missed calls from Tom.</p><p>Confused, Paul pulled over to the side of the road. “What? What is it?”</p><p>“I forgot that there's no signal up there. Something happened.” My voice was lifeless. With trembling hands, I tapped the <em>call </em>button. Tom immediately answered his phone.</p><p>“It’s done” he said. “Gabriela and Laura escaped a few hours ago. Most of the children too, separately.”</p><p>I blinked in shock, trying to process his words, then looked up at Paul and Lori momentarily, they had twisted around in their seats to look at me, panic was all I could see in their eyes.</p><p>“Hold on” I barely managed, putting the phone down for a moment. I was baffled. Tom’s words were sinking in, beginning to make connections in my mind.</p><p>“Sarah…” Lori whispered, scrutinizing my face.</p><p>“They’re out. The children and Laura are on their way.” I finally muttered, there were tears in my eyes, blurring my vision. I couldn’t see the couple clearly, but I heard them exclaim and celebrate.</p><p><em>“Thank you, thank you, thank you”</em> Lori said fervently, closing her eyes. Meanwhile, Paul was making noises of triumph, exuberant with relief.</p><p>“Put him on speakerphone!” he urged me.</p><p>I nodded, still trying to collect my emotions. “Tom” I breathed. “You’re on speakerphone. I’m with Lori and Paul, I told you about them the other day, remember?”</p><p>“Yes, of course. Paul, Lori, hi there!” he said politely.</p><p>“Tell us what happened!” I demanded, interrupting Lori and Paul’s greetings, even as hot tears continued to roll down my cheeks.</p><p>There was a silence.</p><p>“I don’t know where to start.” Tom began. “According to a fellow doctor, Dr. Rice went completely nuts. He stormed into the facility this morning and ordered everybody to destroy all the documents related to the X-23 program, and to…to… <em>Jesus</em>…” he stammered. His voice changed. Suddenly, he was agitated, as if fear was squeezing his chest.</p><p>“What?” I demanded, but he didn’t answer. “Tom! You’re scaring me!”</p><p>“He ordered them to put the children to sleep.” His voice broke a little. “We lost a few…I’m sorry.”</p><p>Another silence. I felt the blood empty from my face. I was like a statue, frozen, perched on the edge of the back seat. Lori’s hand flew up to her mouth, and with a choking gasp tears rushed from her eyes. Paul threw his hands up in shock before smacking the steering wheel several times “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! No!” he shouted, wagging his head from side to side.</p><p>“I’m sorry.” Tom repeated in a quiet voice. At that moment, I felt guilty for asking him to put Laura’s life first. It was an irrational thought, but I couldn’t help it. I took a moment to control my thoughts as I stared at Paul and Lori. Their faces were livid, yet expectant.</p><p>“Keep going” I whispered, finding my voice.</p><p>Tom cleared his throat twice before speaking. “Everything seemed normal when I arrived at work this morning, and it wasn’t until I ran into Dr. Johnson --one of the pediatricians— in the bathroom that I learned what was going on in the underground facility. He looked like he’d just thrown up, his face was pale, his eyes unfocused. The poor old man barely managed to tell me that there was a massacre going on beneath our feet. I gave him all the money I had in my wallet and begged him to take a taxi and never come back again. Then I ran to my office. I was in shock.”</p><p>Tom’s voice was strained. His tone made it clear that this pediatrician was a good person.</p><p>“I knew I had to save Laura… but I was afraid to go down.” he confessed. “I mean, I was a stranger to her! If I tried to take her, she would stab me --or worse.” At this, Lori’s eyes went wide, but she quickly tried to hide her expression by looking away. They knew that Laura was a feral mutant, but I’d never really told them about her…<em>temper</em>.</p><p>“I was pacing around my office, going crazy –she could be the next victim anytime, and I was wasting precious seconds. It was then that my eyes fell on the little rucksack I kept under my desk, and I had an idea.” he said proudly. “I remembered that Gabriela had introduced the children to the X-Men comic books, so maybe if I showed them to Laura I could trick her into thinking that her nurse had sent me for her.”</p><p>“Hold on. Gabriela wasn't there with the kids?” I asked, confused.</p><p>“No, it was her day off –I know her working schedule by heart. I had to find Laura and hide her, then locate Gabriela and tell her where to pick up the girl.”</p><p>“Sounds complicated.” Paul whispered through a frown.</p><p>“Yeah, I know. Dr. Rice picked the worst day of the week to come up with this <em>bullshit</em>. It completely shattered our original plan.” Tom complained. “Anyway, I pulled a comic out of Laura’s bag and ran to the nearest lift. I’m not going to lie to you --and please don’t get me wrong -- I really like your girl and all, but I was shaking with fear as I went down for the first time ever.”</p><p>A worried expression flickered across Paul’s face, and I wished Tom would stop reinforcing the idea that Laura was some kind of dangerous beast. I didn’t want any of them to treat her differently, or worse,<em> label her. </em></p><p>“Needless to say that the underground facility was in chaos.” Tom continued. “It was a suffocating white cube full of crowded corridors which looked exactly the same. I picked my way over heaps of scattered papers and medical supplies, shouldering past wailing nurses, dazzled doctors, hostile guards, and scared children speaking in unintelligible voices. I went down a hallway, past dozens of rooms, cells, offices. I stepped back and looked to my left and right, it was easy to overlook a dark-haired little girl when most of the children looked similar. I began to feel restless, sick. It wasn’t until I was back at my starting point that I panicked and began to shout her name <em>‘Laura! Laura! X-23!’ </em>I couldn’t help thinking that she’d been the first child they had--<em>” </em></p><p>He paused. We could practically feel him recall the horrible images, trying to remind himself that he’d been wrong. Lori glanced nervously at me and reached for my hand. She was a mother too and knew that right now comforting words were neither necessary, nor possible.</p><p>“At a controlled run, I went down the corridor again, looking through and beyond the dazzled faces. I poked my head round the door of a large laboratory. Inside were more papers and books, broken glass beakers and test tubes. I checked each lab carefully, but they all lay in the same state of disarray. It was then that I ran past a nurse with a child in her arms –it was Valeria—she was heading briskly towards a vast room at the end of the corridor, followed by six or seven children. She was desperately trying to keep them together, glancing over her shoulder now and then to check if they were being followed. I hurtled toward them, pushing furiously against the crowd as I screamed her name. It took her some seconds to recognize my face, but when she did, she stopped.” Tom said, barely pausing for breath. “She was agitated, crying. She told me that nurse María had called Gabriela and asked her to come. <em>‘Gaby’s here, I just saw her. She told me to get the children from the third floor and then she went to find the others. We’re going to save them. We have a plan.’ </em>she said.”</p><p>“Gabriela went to find Laura” I blurted out, before I could help myself.</p><p>“Babe, I thought the same” Tom said “That’s why I asked Valeria if she knew where Laura might be, and she told me that the girl was probably in the training rooms, downstairs. So that’s where I went. However, the floor was completely empty, desolate, and the corridors were longer than the Chinese Wall” he was saying. I made a face, the vast white corridors and the memories they unraveled still gave me nightmares. “I raced from room to room, searching. Some of the doors were locked. I didn’t even know if I was in the right place and there was no sign of Laura or Gabriela. I was about to go back upstairs when I saw a bunch of children coming out of one of the locked doors, a big one. They were stumbling, running, taking long strides. I held my ground in the center, watching them. The oldest, a boy, was shouting orders in Spanish. He was talking too fast for me to understand, but I caught the words <em>‘Eden’</em> and <em>‘border’</em>. I tried to stop them, but they ignored me.”</p><p>“That nurse was right, they did have a plan” Lori mumbled.</p><p>“I think they did” Tom said, before continuing. “It was then that I heard a man screaming in pain. I stood still and listened hard, there was another voice, someone was growling. <em>A girl</em>. I don’t how, I don’t why, but I knew it. I just knew it. Laura was in that room killing someone.”</p><p>“<em>God</em>” Lori murmured, hand over her mouth. I felt a tightening at the base of my throat as my mind filled with the image of my daughter ripping someone apart. Maybe I shouldn’t have allowed Lori and Paul to hear this conversation<em>. 'An innocent child' 'Such a loving girl'</em> <em>'Smart and talented'</em>–these were some of the phrases I usually employed to describe Laura. I couldn’t help it. That was how I felt about her. Most mutant children were dangerous, so I never felt the need to talk about <em>this </em>side of Laura.</p><p>“Don’t hate me for this, sweetheart” Tom continued. “But I seriously considered turning around and walking away. I didn’t know if those children I'd seen were running from her or if she’d stayed behind to protect them.”</p><p>“What did you do?” I asked blankly.</p><p>“I shook off the thought and clutched the comic book tightly as I walked towards the room. And…I don’t know if I should tell you…”</p><p>“What?” we said in unison.</p><p>“I pushed the door open and found myself in a wide space full of…of…”</p><p>“Tom!” I shouted in exasperation.</p><p>“Full of body parts. Hands, feet, heads, torsos scattered on the floor! There was blood everywhere. The smell was unbearable. I was surrounded by walls with plate-glass windows. The agonizing noises I'd heard were coming from the farthest room.”</p><p>We all fell silent for a moment, holding our breath.</p><p>“Summoning up all my courage, I padded silently along the corridor, stepping over discarded clothes, guns, and body parts until I reached the correct window. I glanced in and then…” he trailed off. “I saw her.”</p><p>At this, my heart skipped a beat. It felt as if I’d seen her too.</p><p>“I couldn’t see her face, she was crouching next to a man --a coach, judging by his uniform.” Tom muttered “She was…trying to help him stand because his shoulder was bleeding. And that single, kind gesture, gave me the courage to move away from the window and stand at the door instead. Instantly, the girl lifted up her head --as if sniffing the air-- and slowly turned to face me.<em> God</em>, I don’t know how to explain what I felt in that moment…” he said, excitement and disbelief rising in his voice. “The hair, the eyebrows, the nose, the eyes… I was looking at a ten-year-old version of you, babe. It was unmistakably Laura.”</p><p>I gasped. <em>She was out there</em>. <em>She was mine</em>. <em>Anyone with eyes could see that.</em> It was as if Laura and I were connected by an invisible thread that was getting pulled tighter by the second. I looked up at Lori and Paul, they were not scared, they were smiling tenderly, giving Tom their full attention.</p><p>“However, the moment she set eyes on me, <em>your</em> half disappeared and was quickly replaced by <em>his</em> half. She stood up slowly, scowling and baring her teeth, as two pairs of adamantium claws jutted out of her tiny knuckles, making them bleed.” He whispered vehemently, and I grimaced. I didn’t know if she felt pain every time she released her claws. “I was dumbstruck, frozen, terrified. She was walking towards me, <em>growling</em>. It was like looking at an unpredictable animal…<em>God</em>… Not knowing what to do, I just held up the comic book, using it as a sort of shield. And it worked. She instantly came out of her trance, her face relaxed and she retracted her claws. Your girl was bewildered and confused, but at least she looked like a child again.” he said reassuringly, sensing the tension on this side of the line.</p><p>“I remember telling her something like,<em> ‘Gabriela sent me for you, she’s waiting upstairs</em>’ as I handed her the comic book. She took it from my hands and scrutinized it --just like you when you’re concentrated— and after what felt like an eternity, she finally looked up at me and nodded. And then, you’re not going to believe this…” he let out an incredulous laugh.</p><p>“What!” we exclaimed in unison once more, leaning toward the phone intently, not wanting to miss a single word.</p><p>“She took my hand!” Tom said in disbelief. I tried not to gasp, truly surprised at her confidence. “It was her way of telling me that she wanted me to take her to her nurse. I was so shocked I didn’t move, so she began to tug at my hand urgently, turning toward the big door. We crept quickly upstairs and along the corridors. Everything was still in chaos. I held her hand tightly as we moved towards the lift. At first we were taking long strides, but then we were running. It was some moments before I realized that I was being led rather than followed, she seemed to know the place well. At one point she dropped her hand, stepped back and looked frantically to her left and right, then she quickened her pace and glanced down the adjacent corridor, probably looking for her friends. She was anxiously shouldering past doctors and nurses<em>,</em> she didn’t want to leave the others behind.”</p><p>At this, Lori’s gaze softened and she squeezed my hand as we both smiled at Laura’s cute display of courage and solidarity.</p><p>“It was becoming difficult to keep up with Laura and we were running out of time, I had to take her upstairs before it was too late. So I grabbed her by the arm and dragged her into the nearest room. She scowled at me and fought my hands for a second, but I quickly dropped down to her level, on both knees, and promised to help her friends once she was safe with Gabriela.” Tom’s voice was trembling slightly. “She didn’t look convinced, but after a moment, though, she reluctantly took my hand again and I urged her away from the room. We battled our way through once more, this time I was pulling her and she was running to keep up. We were mere steps from the lift when the doors opened and a bunch of men I’d never seen before stormed in with shotguns.” he said, and we gasped at the same time. “I instinctively scooped up Laura and ran toward the stairwell door. I vaguely remember endless flights of stairs, she was very agitated.”</p><p>I shook my head silently. She’d also been agitated when I’d climbed those same stairs almost eleven years back. It was the night I’d almost killed her. The night I’d seen her face for the first time. The night I’d become her mother.</p><p>“Five or ten minutes later we finally stepped out into the main facility. Nothing was out of place up there, it was like stepping into another world.” he muttered, and I remembered running through the quiet and shiny lobby that made the building look normal and harmless. I shivered at the memory. “Still, I peered nervously round corners and through doorways as we went, afraid of bumping into one of the head doctors. But that never happened, the building was deserted, even the receptionists were gone.” he continued. “We hurried down the corridor and threw ourselves into my office. I felt relieved, disoriented, frightened. Laura was gasping for breath, but her face didn’t show fear or shock, not even curiosity. Nothing. She was just standing there, holding the comic book, sweating like crazy and wiping her forehead with her dirty sleeve. <em>‘Gabriela is on her way’</em> was all I could say as I dragged a chair towards her and motioned her to take a seat. I was baffled, I didn’t know what to do with her, how to communicate with her. She kept throwing glances at the water dispenser behind my desk, so I filled a glass and gave it to her. The poor girl gulped it down in seconds.”</p><p>Tom couldn’t read Laura’s expression, but I knew exactly what he was looking at because I’d been in her shoes once. He was looking at a little girl under stress behaving with admirable self-control. She was scared, thirsty, and exhausted, and yet, she was keeping a hold of herself.</p><p>“For the next five minutes I kept peeking out the door, hoping to see Gabriela hurrying over to the exit with more kids. Laura was getting anxious in her seat, glancing around the room nervously. I tried to start a conversation, ask her some questions to break the ice and make her feel at ease, but she would only nod vaguely or glance away. She wasn’t trying to ignore me though, she was looking through me at the door across the room, desperate to see Gabriela walk in.” he breathed. I was aware that Paul and Lori were carefully checking my expression.</p><p>Tom took a deep breath. “After ten minutes of waiting I began to worry, anyone could come in and snatch the girl from me --<em>that coach had seen me take her, after all</em>. The logical thing to do was to take Laura to my flat, then find Gabriela and give her the address or something like that... I don't know. The idea was unattractive –<em>and dangerous</em>—but at that time the most important thing was to get her out of Transigen. I was about to break the bad news --<em>praying she would not think I’d tricked her and…you know—</em>when her eyes went wide and she jumped to her feet, dropping the comic. Seconds later, I heard it too: someone was running down the corridor. I peeked out and almost cried with relief. Gabriela was a few steps from me, about to force open one of the doors. The woman looked pale and dizzy, like she'd lost her sense of balance. Her panic was too evident, it was obvious she’d been frantically searching the whole building.” Tom murmured, compassion sounding in his words. “I called her and, without even pausing to question my intentions, she stumbled towards me and entered the office as though she knew that her girl was here.” he said through a little laugh. “As soon as Laura saw the nurse, she slammed into her, wrapping her arms tightly around the woman's waist. Gabriela hugged her back and smothered the child with kisses, asking her if she was ok. It was very sweet”</p><p>His words unsettled me in an odd way. I had mixed feelings – On the one hand I was grateful that Gabriela was willing to tear the damn place apart in order to find my girl, and I was glad that Laura was attached to her caregiver; but on the other hand I felt a slight pang of jealousy, there was frustration too. <em>It hurt. </em></p><p>“My job was almost done. I quickly reached under my desk and pulled out Laura’s travel bag.” Tom continued, interrupting my thoughts. “I handed it to Gabriela and told her that it had been me who’d left the boxes on her doorstep.” he suddenly paused to assess my reaction.</p><p>“It’s ok, anonymity was impossible for you at that point. Go on.” I whispered, relieving him of his feeling of guilt.</p><p>“I urged her to run away, find Logan, and take the girl to Eden. I assured her that my friends would help her cross to Canada. And just like Laura, she hesitated. She was feeling guilty for leaving the other kids behind. Fearing that she would go back downstairs, I promised her that I would help the rest of the nurses and children escape from the facility. Completely bewildered and overwhelmed –<em>I guess we all were</em>-- she took Laura’s hand and thanked me before leaving the office. That was the last time I saw them.” Tom concluded.</p><p>For a moment I only looked down, unable to say anything. We remained immobile, unaware of the passage of time. It was only then that I realized it was raining. I could feel my friends’ eyes on me, I knew they were smiling. I looked up but their faces got slightly blurry around the edges and drifted out of focus --silent tears were rolling down my cheeks. I brought to mind my daughter. Pretty soon I wouldn't miss out on the ordinary little wonders that, for now, only belonged to other people, to other <em>families</em>. My love wouldn’t be useless anymore.</p><p>“You have a smart, brave, and beautiful daughter, Sarah, you do.” Tom whispered, breaking the heavy silence. “She’s everything you always dreamed of. She escaped from their hands, she managed to break free. Laura is a fighter like you.” he added vehemently.</p><p>“And she’s on her way back to you, back home.” Paul said, echoing my own thoughts. His eyes were watery, and he was wearing the sweetest smile I’d ever seen on a man.</p><p>For a moment, we all gave into the wave of happiness, sadness, and awe that we’d been feeling during Tom’s story. Then we returned to reality, suddenly remembering that the nightmare wasn’t over yet.</p><p>“What happened to the other children?” I asked, frowning deeply. I felt responsible for those kids in a way, and my happiness wouldn’t be perfect until Tom told me that they’d escaped too.</p><p>“Yeah, well. It’s not like I could go back downstairs and bring them out --the other nurses were already doing that-- All I could do was hold Dr. Rice and his men back, just like we’d planned.” Tom told us. “I knew that he wouldn’t go after these dangerous children without protection. Even if he had Donald Pierce and his Reavers, they would be no match for the living weapons they’d created. The hunt wouldn’t begin until X-24 was securely chained in the back of one of their vehicles.”</p><p>“Obviously” Lori mused, completely submerged in Tom’s story.</p><p>“Remember that ‘watered-down’ version of <em>The mutant cure</em>? The substance I’d used to inhibit Laura’s healing factor for a couple of hours?”</p><p>“Yeah, I do” I said absently, urging him to keep talking.</p><p>“I ran to the chemical storage and grabbed the jar. There wasn’t much left and X-24 is a big guy, but it would be enough to weaken him for at least 72 hours.” Tom explained.</p><p>“That gives Gabriela, Laura, and the other kids enough time to get to the US border without being hunted down.” Paul muttered, his lips turning up into a smile.</p><p>“Exactly my thoughts, Paul.” Tom agreed, “So I rushed to the fifth floor –<em>that’s where they keep him</em>—opened the tank, and gave him an injection of the viscous substance. I had just thrown the needle into a bin when Donald Pierce burst into the room with one of his men. He was surprised to find me there, obviously, but then he smirked and murmured something like <em>‘speak of the devil’</em>. I didn’t understand what he meant until he suddenly strode forward, grabbed me by the shoulders, and slammed me into the wall.”</p><p>I grimaced. I couldn’t bear the thought of Pierce being around the people I cared about, especially Laura. <em>He better not have laid a hand on her while she was in Transigen or—</em>I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to shake off the unpleasant picture.</p><p>“That coach had given me away. He’d told Pierce everything he’d seen and heard.” Tom muttered apologetically, and I cursed the coach for being such a miserable coward after Laura had tried to help him. “Sorry, love, but there was no point in lying. I had to confess. <em>‘Yes, I stole her. I used a comic book to trick her, I told her that Gabriela was waiting for her upstairs. I've been fucking one of the nurses, she told me things, I know that the experiments like the X-Men.’</em> I told him,<em> ‘The clone is not perfect yet and we might need X-23’s DNA to improve him and create other clones. We can’t kill her until we run more tests.’”</em></p><p>“That doesn’t make any sense” I interjected, tilting my head in confusion.</p><p>“I know, but Pierce is not a learned man, and he had no reason to suspect that I was actually trying to save the girl’s life. I’m the only geneticist here who doesn’t see the children as things.”</p><p>“Right, sorry. Go on” I mumbled.</p><p>“He let go of me and stepped back. I thought I was safe, but then he asked the obvious question, <em>‘Where is she?’</em> and I said, <em>‘Locked up in my office, waiting for her nurse, of course.’ </em>–the bloody bastard smirked and patted me on the shoulder as if I were one of his kind. I felt disgusted.” Tom said through his teeth. “He made me follow him all the way down to my office. I’d left in such a hurry that I forgot to close the door, so when we got there it was wide open, making it look as if Laura had escaped.”</p><p>“Aren’t we lucky?” Paul asked, incredulous.</p><p>“Not quite.” Tom replied. “Pierce shook his head, scrutinizing the door, and then he murmured something like, <em>‘The little –</em>well<em>, </em>you don’t need to know what he called her-- <em>would have ripped the door off. Someone helped her escape.’ </em>He shot me a glance and I honestly thought he was going to kill me, when the hitman spoke for the first time. <em>‘It was that nurse Sir, the one that never minds her own business.</em>’ he said <em>‘I saw her rushing downstairs to the training rooms when I was fighting one of the girls. I bet that coach told her that X-23 was up here.’” </em></p><p><em>Puta madre</em>, I muttered through my teeth, burying my head in my hands for a moment. Half grateful because the coach had guided Gabriela to Laura, and half angry because Pierce’s good luck was a sick joke.</p><p>“When Pierce heard that, he completely forgot about me and strode down the corridor, cursing the coach and Gabriela alike.” Tom continued. “I don’t know what really happened, but Pierce is now convinced that Gabriela stole Laura. I’m sorry, I--”</p><p>“Tom, don’t” I interjected. “You were <em>fucking</em> <em>amazing.”</em> I said, despite feeling my chest and spine shrink.</p><p>“Yes, man. You did a great job!” Paul cheered him up.</p><p>“What are you going to do now?” Lori asked, becoming very concerned about Tom’s safety. “You can’t go back.”</p><p>“No, I can’t.” Tom replied dejectedly. “They’re not idiots. Sooner or later they’re going to find out that I helped Laura and spoiled X-24. I’ll go back to England and take my mum to safety --they have too much information about my family—I already packed my bags and left my flat. Sarah, I’m afraid this is the last time we’ll talk, at least for a while. I'm getting rid of this phone."</p><p>I began to feel the familiar pain of loss, but this time it was different. His words made me realize how important he was to me. For a second I saw before my eyes what we could have been had we met under different circumstances. I didn’t regret my daughter, but sometimes I regretted the timing of my daughter. I felt like I never had a choice.</p><p>“If you ever need a safe place to stay, you know where I am.” I whispered, gulping back the tears, too aware of what I was about to give up. “Please be safe, I…” I trailed off, not sure if I should say the words. No, I couldn’t say that <em>I loved him</em>, our relationship never got to that point, <em>things</em> had gotten in our way. There wasn’t a word in the English language to describe what I felt for him. Thankfully, there was one in Spanish. <em>“Te quiero” </em>I muttered.</p><p><em>"Yo también te quiero" </em>he responded in kind, knowing exactly what I meant. There was a short pause full of conflict and desperation, then he sighed and hung up. </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>**"Where you belong", Kari Kimmel.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. WAITING FOR SUPERMAN</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong><em>**“What about us?</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>What about all the broken happy ever afters?</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>What about us?</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>What about all the plans that ended in disaster?</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>What about love? What about trust?</em> </strong>
</p><p><strong> <em>What about us?</em> </strong> <strong> <em>”</em> </strong></p><p>
  
</p><p>I found myself sitting behind Marie’s desk. The logical thing to do on Laura’s birthday was to get away from the world and have a moment to myself. That’s why I’d volunteered to keep watch over the phone and radio this morning. I was staring at the wall, counting, wondering, letting my mind drift away. <em>How many birthday cakes were never baked? How many toys were never bought? How many piñatas were never broken? </em></p><p>Gabrielle, Victor, Alice, and all the other kids knew that I enjoyed being silly. I enjoyed making them laugh for no reason. I told them stories and jokes to make them laugh. I did it every day. I needed to do it so our home remained a happy and peaceful place. Yet deep down I didn’t laugh. Losing a child is like an explosion, some pieces will never be attached again.</p><p><em>‘Feliz cumpleaños, mi amor.’ </em>I whispered absently.</p><p>The next moment I was blinking and looking around the room confusedly.</p><p>My phone was beeping.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>11:30pm. Sí me llegó tu mensaje. Estoy bien. También te extraño y te amo, mi niña. --Papá. </em> </strong>
</p><p><em>I got your message. I’m ok. I miss and love you too, baby girl.  </em>--<em>Dad</em></p><p>My thoughts slid away once more as I read my father’s message. There came to mind his kind eyes and sweet smile. When I looked at my dad’s face, it was not the effects of age and hard work I saw so much as the effects of my disappearance. I was missing for a year, and when I saw him again, he was unrecognizable: white hair, wrinkles, sunken eyes. The loss of his only child had left him bankrupt and emotionally shattered, not to mention that it had destroyed his marriage. My parents never talked to me about their sorrow, in fact, they rarely mentioned what they’d gone through during that year, and they rarely asked me questions<em>. </em>I never dared to say Laura’s name in front of them. They didn’t need to know that they’d lost a granddaughter too. We never got to grieve Laura together. I didn’t want to add to their burden.</p><p>“Sorry I’m late” Lori startled me as she stepped into the office, holding a cup of coffee and running her fingers through her already disheveled hair. “I slept in. Gabrielle decided that I needed more sleep. Remind me to ground her for two weeks.”</p><p>I let out a laugh, putting the phone back into my pocket. “Relax, Lori, it’s not a job interview. And Gabrielle is right, anyway. None of us slept a wink last night.”</p><p>“That phone call was…intense” she said, rubbing her temple with one hand. “And speaking of phone calls…” she trailed off, coming round to the desk before grabbing Marie’s phone.</p><p>I went to the window and gazed across our tiny village. It was late in the morning and impressively hot, especially indoors. The children were outside setting up a lemonade stand while the adults were working on the new cabin. The lemonade thing was just an excuse to hover around --they didn’t want to miss the chance to give their opinion about this or that. The new mutants’ arrival was the most exciting thing that had happened to them in a long time.</p><p>Lori gave a heavy sigh. “Nothing. The earth swallowed her up.” she growled, putting down the phone and snatching her cup of coffee from the desk.</p><p>“It’s ok, Lori. We’ll try again later” I said softly, trying to calm her nerves. “Tom has given the children enough time to get to the U.S. border. If we manage to reach Rogue this week, she might still be able to help them. <em>Sorry if I call her that, but I like the name.”</em> I smiled, leaning against the edge of the window.</p><p>“I like it too.” she shrugged, and sat down in the chair in front of Marie’s mahogany desk, then she picked up a pen and began idly playing with the lid. “By the way…” she trailed off, unable to bring her eyes up to meet mine. “That Tom guy...” I arched an eyebrow in suspicion, noticing the smile forming on her face. “Are you sure you don’t like him as a husband?” she finally asked, looking up at me.</p><p>I rolled my eyes and blushed a bit, shoving my hands in the pockets of my jean jacket. I hadn’t had this kind of conversation since I was a teenager. “He’s just… a friend.” I stammered.</p><p>“You’re such a bad liar.” Lori said accusingly. “<em>You know where I am’</em> --that sounded like a confession. And then all that flirting in Spanish…” she trailed off once more, biting her lip to hide her giggles.</p><p>“We were not <em>flirting</em>” I managed, and then looked away. “I was just thanking him.” I tried to clarify.</p><p>Lori smirked and whipped her hands outwards. “Ok, I believe you but--” she leaned forward and then whispered, “Did you ‘<em>thank’</em> him before coming here?” At this, my jaw dropped and I shot her a look, and she burst out laughing.</p><p>“Come on, say it.” she smiled slyly. “You had sex. <em>A lot of it</em>”</p><p>“Shut up” I grumbled, but then smiled despite myself. “Why are you so interested in my sex life, anyway?” I asked, crossing my arms.</p><p>“Because <em>you’re sexy. Way too much.</em>” she said through a wink, teasing me, and I sighed.</p><p>“Tell me!” she pressed, enjoying herself a bit too much. “Please! You have a daughter, and pretty soon you’ll have to give her <em>the talk</em>. How are you going to handle it if you can't even talk about <em>your men</em> with your best friend?”</p><p>I frowned. “<em>What?</em> <em>Ugh! What the fuck, Lori?</em> --It’s not like I’m going to sit in front of my kid and tell her all about my sexual partners.” I shivered, bringing to mind those days in the Mayan Riviera when I would get drunk and have random flings at least three times a week. And before I could realize what I was saying, I muttered under my breath something like, <em>“especially Tom.”</em></p><p>“I knew it! I knew it!” Lori shouted, smacking the desk, bringing me back to the present moment.</p><p>“Yeah, whatever” I breathed, quietly smiling and shaking my head at Lori’s juvenile enthusiasm.</p><p>There was a pause. Lori’s smile slipped slowly from her face, and for a moment concern flashed across her face. “Are you planning to go after him at one point?”</p><p>For a moment I simply stood there, leaning against the window. “I don’t know. It’s too soon to think about that.” I finally replied. “I like him, the sex was great, and he’s an incredible guy, extremely smart and good looking —but I’m not sure if my heart is ready to handle a relationship right now. I want to give Laura all my attention, I want to invest all my energy in getting to know her…make up for the lost time.”</p><p>“Mmmm” Lori nodded.</p><p>“A parent-child relationship is forever, but that doesn’t always apply to love relationships.” I continued, thinking about my own parents. “I don’t want men coming in and out of her life, at least not for a while. Besides, she’s got her own father…”  I let out a heavy sigh, fidgeting with my jacket sleeves, realizing how complex the situation was. Laura was officially carrying Tom’s name; her biological father was out there and he didn’t know about her existence –<em>or mine.</em> Just thinking about the words <em>‘shared custody’</em> <em>‘child’s dual citizenship’ ‘paperwork’ ‘arrangements’ </em>made me feel mentally exhausted. Not to mention that meeting my baby’s dad for the first time was going to be incredibly awkward.</p><p>“You think Logan will stay?” Lori asked carefully.</p><p>I shrugged, turning my eyes back to her. “I don’t know if he’ll stay in Eden, but I hope he’ll stay in Laura’s life. She’ll need him in order to figure out her mutant-self.”</p><p>“Yeah.” Lori said quietly. She and Paul often felt guilty and frustrated because they couldn’t understand or even help Gabrielle when she was feeling like a freak.</p><p>There was a moment of silence. We were so enveloped in our thoughts that we almost forgot each other’s presence.</p><p>“Lori?” I asked at last, and she looked up at me. “You think I’ll be a good mom? I mean, I’m still young, and I don’t want Laura to see me as a kind of <em>big sister</em>. She deserves to have a mother figure.” I muttered, not knowing why I’d even said that.</p><p>Lori stood up, coming round the desk to give me the biggest hug. “Kids don’t come with instructions, honey. We all have those moments when the situation gets so challenging that we feel unequipped, and lost, and useless. Just follow your instincts and enjoy the ride.”</p><p>“Thanks, Lori.” I whispered as I withdrew from her embrace. “You know? Today is her birthday, she’s turning eleven.”</p><p>“Oh, my god! It’s her first birthday out in the world!” she exclaimed.</p><p>“I know, I’m over the moon.” I said, and at this, Lori put her hand on my arm, gently.</p><p>“You think she’ll find her way back to you?” she asked, her eyes glistening with tears of joy.</p><p>“I refuse to believe that she won’t.” I barely muttered through a sad smile.</p><p>For a while, no one spoke again. The air was beginning to grow sticky and thick, like syrup. My ‘shift’ was over and it was time to go back to the new cabin and help out the other parents, so I gently squeezed Lori’s hand and walked slowly towards the door.</p><p>“Sarah!” Lori called, and I turned around.</p><p>“Mmm?”</p><p>She stalled for a moment, crossing her arms awkwardly. “What you said a moment ago…<em>it’s not like that</em>.” she muttered. I stared at her with a small frown and waited, not understanding what she was getting at. “I mean, I know why you’re having all those thoughts, I saw your face last night when Tom described how Laura had run into that nurse’s arms and--”</p><p>
  <em>Oh, that. </em>
</p><p>“—I just want you to know that deep down Laura knows who her mother is.”</p><p>++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++</p><p>The weather kept growing warmer and stickier. Every morning I counted up the number of days Laura and her friends had been missing. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Twelve days had passed and my daughter was not here yet. The lack of news was gnawing at me quietly, a dull and spreading fear. Ever since Laura’s birthday, I had kept myself busy going round the children’s cabin, preparing it for them. Several times a day the parents or some of the kids would walk in and suggest I take a break, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do so. To clean it, paint it, and decorate it would demonstrate that I had not lost hope yet. In folding their little clothes and organizing their toys and books I would be making an offering to fate, or even a challenge.</p><p>‘<em>See this? I’ve got the cabin! I’ve got the beds and toys! Now bring them to us! Bring them home!’</em></p><p>Each morning all of us, finding ourselves in the gardens, wondered for just a moment if the universe had righted itself: perhaps we might enter Marie’s office and find her at the radio, waiting for us with a smile and good news. None of the parents ever mentioned this most tender hope, but each morning, when we met in the office and found no one there, we looked at each other and knew. <em>Still gone.</em></p><p>On one occasion I actually listened to my friends and went home to relax and watch television, but as soon as I lay on my back and turned it on, a reporter appeared on camera describing a massacre at a farm in Oklahoma. I immediately turned off the television and went back to work. I didn’t need reminding that the world was full of shitty people, not when my child was God-knows-where. Besides, staying in my empty house, surrounded by her things, only triggered my anxiety --<em>Has she eaten today? Is she getting enough sleep? Is she warm enough at night? Is she safe?</em></p><p>To make matters worse, Paul had driven all the way to the city to request the children’s asylum at the <em>Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship</em> offices, only to be told that they couldn’t grant it until he provided the exact number of mutant children entering the country, their ages, mutations, and other personal information. That made total sense, but it meant that the kids would have to stay at the mountain refuge until their asylum was approved by the Canadian government.</p><p>I was rotating my wrist in circles as I scanned the freshly painted chairs in front of me. We didn’t want everything inside the kids’ cabin to be brown, but adding a bit of color to their lives was taking its toll on my back, neck and wrists. I stood up and stepped back, satisfied with my work. I would let the paint dry and then take them back inside. I set the paintbrush aside and picked up my water bottle before taking a heavy gulp of lemonade.</p><p>“Sarah! Sarah!” a girlish voice shouted in the distance. My eyebrows furrowed a bit as I turned around, wiping some drops of the yellowish drink from my lips. It was Mingmei, one of my students. She was running towards me, her thick bangs bobbing against her white forehead.</p><p>“Come, come with me!” she urged me, tugging at my hand. “There’s a kid on the mountain radio!”</p><p>Without hesitation, I dropped the bottle and followed her across the gardens and into the school.</p><p>The office was packed with parents and a couple of children. Lori was leaning over the radio, holding the walkie talkie close to her mouth.</p><p>“How many kids are there?” she was asking. Paul was standing by her side, taking notes.</p><p>“Eleven so far” she whispered to her husband, although we could all hear the boy’s voice coming out of the radio, albeit a little distorted.</p><p>“You mean there are more children on their way?” Lori asked, a bit confused.</p><p><em>“Yes, we got separated. We’ll wait for the others up here until Friday</em>.” The boy replied. His voice rang with finality, it was evident that he was the leader. <em>“That’s our deadline.”</em> he added.</p><p>Anxiety was eating at me, so I walked up to Lori, pushing gently through the parents. “Is Laura with them?” I whispered desperately, my voice breaking on her name. In response, she held up her hand in a stopping gesture without turning to look at me. She was too concentrated.</p><p>“Can you please give me your names?” Lori asked at last as I unconsciously bit my nails.</p><p><em>“Joey, Jonah, Bobby, Charlotte, Gideon, Stephen…”</em> the boy began. Paul was writing everything down, occasionally gesturing Lori to repeat a name. I held my breath as the boy listed the names, hoping to hear my daughter’s. ".<em>.. and Delilah"</em> the boy finally concluded. It was then that Lori turned to me and shook her head sadly. Disappointment washed through me. For a moment, I’d seen myself dashing out the door and climbing up the mountain to get my child.</p><p>“Ok, now your mutations and ages --we need this information in order to require your asylum.” Lori explained.</p><p>The boy complied and, after a few minutes, Paul stopped scribbling and gave his wife a thumbs up. He had what he needed. </p><p>“You’ll find everything you need in the refuge: food, water, blankets, even some books and toys." Lori told the boy when he finished. "Would you like me to send someone up there?”</p><p><em>“No, thank you. We’d like to stay on our own if that’s ok. I think we can manage.”</em> The boy replied, sure of himself. He sounded wise beyond his years. </p><p>“Alright” Lori muttered. “We’ll leave you to your own devices then. Call us if you need anything”.</p><p>She was about to end the conversation, so I stepped forward and caught her wrist, suddenly remembering a very important detail.</p><p>“Lori, you should give them the exact location of Eden.” I whispered vehemently. “I know it’s against the rules, and I know their asylum isn’t approved yet, but these kids are terribly vulnerable up there. They should know where to run to in case of emergency.”</p><p>She pondered my words for a few moments, searching for the approval of the other parents, who immediately nodded in agreement.</p><p>“Rictor?” she asked over the radio.</p><p><em>Rictor, </em>I muttered to myself. Something jabbed at me, made my heart stumble. Disturbing visions of a nursery, a name tag, a metal crib, and a distressed baby engulfed me like a heavy cloud. I’d held that kid in my arms the night I’d tried to escape, I'd soothed him, I’d fed him. He was out in the world, alive and thriving. Despite the pain in my chest, I found myself smiling.</p><p>“Listen, like I said a moment ago, you'll have to stay there until your asylum is approved. However, if you need help, Eden is across the woods –eight miles away. Can you see the woods?”</p><p>
  <em>“Yes”</em>
</p><p>“Perfect. You just have to head north and find the border. Please, avoid the road, go through the woods. It’s safer that way.” Lori explained.</p><p><em>“Got it. Thank you. Over and out”</em> Rictor said simply before going. </p><p>Lori put down the walkie talkie and then stared back to all of us. We were momentarily frozen. It was happening <em>for real</em>. These children would be here in three or four days.</p><p>Paul wasted no time. He hurried out of the office, took his car and drove out of Eden to complete the asylum application. This time they would have to approve it without further delay. It was an emergency, after all. </p><p>We were all chatting excitedly about the whole thing, shuffling papers and making plans, when, suddenly, a familiar voice said, “What’s going on here?” The voice was loud, so loud it made us look up. Marie was standing by the door, taking in the crowded office. She looked confused. “I have 567 missed calls.”</p><p>We all stood dumbstruck, waiting for the others to do the talking. I automatically turned my eyes to Lori, and at this, she sighed heavily and crossed the room. “You might want to take a seat.” Lori said as she dragged a chair up in front of Marie’s desk.</p><p>“I…I think we better get going.” John, one of the parents, muttered awkwardly. Everybody nodded meekly and began to follow him out of the office. Helen and I exchanged a quick glance as she closed the door behind them.</p><p>Lori went to sit on the corner of the desk and crossed her arms before speaking. “There are eleven mutant children on the mountain top, waiting for their asylum to be approved.”</p><p>Rogue’s eyes widened. Lori’s unexpected words took her so much by surprise that for a moment she could only stare at her. “Eleven children! Where did they come from?” she asked, astounded.</p><p>“They escaped from a laboratory in Mexico City. Alkali is behind all this.” Lori began, then her face fell. “They were making mutant children into soldiers, weapons. Sarah’s…<em>husband</em> works there, he helped the kids escape. Laura, her daughter, is one of them.” Lori added quietly.</p><p>“What!” Rogue stood up abruptly, her voice disgusted. “You and your husband handed your daughter over to Alkali so that she could become a weapon?” she hissed, shooting me a nasty look that seemed to say <em>‘you shouldn’t be a mother.’</em></p><p>“It’s not what you think!” Lori said, leaning towards Marie, holding her hand out in front of her. I could feel the physical tension in the air. The mutant stepped back, though there was still a glint of anger in her eyes.</p><p>“It’s a long story.” I managed, running a hand over my face. “She’s with her father, they’re both on their way --I mean, she’s <em>probably</em> with her biological father, a mutant.” I clarified.</p><p>“I don’t understand” Marie muttered, quite confused, crossing her arms. Her accusing eyes darting between Lori and me.</p><p>“Listen, I…there’s a couple of things I didn’t tell you” I said through a stammer, not knowing how to drop the bombshell. “Laura has a healing factor, but she also…she also has…” I dropped off and then sighed, unable to summon the words.</p><p>Marie frowned at this. She wasn’t angry anymore, she looked dazzled. It was as if her mind was starting to put the pieces together without her consent.</p><p>“Her name is not Laura Kinney” I mumbled at last. “No, I mean, <em>it is</em>, sort of, but--”</p><p>“--her real name is Laura Howlett” Lori interjected. </p><p>Marie shook her head in disbelief and grasped the edge of the desk for support, then looked into the distance with an unfocused gaze. “No, that’s impossible…” she mumbled to herself.</p><p>“You knew it the moment you saw her picture, didn’t you?” I asked intently.</p><p>At this, Marie came out of her reverie and turned to me quickly, feeling exposed.</p><p>“That’s why we were trying to find you.” I continued. “I was hoping you could help him bring our daughter. It’s too late now, we don’t know where they are.” I added quietly.</p><p>Rogue’s eyes were watery, there was no human color in her pale cheeks, she looked weak. “<em>Your</em> daughter? Who’s<em> ‘they’</em>? What…what are you trying to tell me?” she stammered, obviously still in shock.</p><p>I couldn’t help to feel empathy and compassion towards her. I knew what she was feeling, she was on the verge of a panic attack. I sighed and closed the space between us, then I bent slightly and put my hand on her shoulder. “Anna…<em>Marie</em>.” I whispered calmly, and her eyes slowly met mine. It was obvious that nobody had called her that in a long time. “Logan is alive. He should arrive in the next days with Laura, <em>his biological daughter</em>. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”</p><p>She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again before shoving my hand roughly off her shoulder, hatred and betrayal invading her delicate features. Lori stepped forward, reaching out for her, but Marie cringed away, holding her hands up defensively.</p><p>“I…I need some space” she muttered and then strode out of the office.</p><p>++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++</p><p>Lori and I spent the next hours watching over the children at the school playground. We’d volunteered for the task because Marie’s cabin was located right next to it and we also wanted to keep an eye on her. I could see from Lori’s concerned look she’d never seen Marie act this way before. My friend was so restless that at one point she even considered knocking on the mutant's door to check on her.</p><p>“Give her some time, Lori” I said, looking up at her as I reached for her hand. “The day I found out that Laura was alive I lied on the floor for hours.”</p><p>She hesitated for a second, and then finally nodded and sat beside me on Marie’s front porch steps. I looked around in amusement, the mutant had brought presents for the kids --mostly toys-- and now there were boxes of games, jigsaw puzzles, figurines, dolls in different costumes, canal boats, and even fluffy rabbits in dresses scattered all over the playground. In the middle of it was the most impressive build: a huge skyscraper made out of Lego, complete with surrounding office buildings, a castle, a mansion, and a village. It had been made by Mingmei, our little genius.</p><p>We’d barley made ourselves comfortable when we saw Paul’s car entering the gates. He quickly parked it and climbed out, holding a manila envelope in his hand.</p><p>“I got it!” he shouted, waving the envelope at us as he crossed the playground “It’s done. The asylum will be officially approved on Friday. They’ll call us back, we need to book an appointment to register the children in their mutant database.”</p><p>My face stiffened, like a mask, and Paul shook his head quickly. “It’s totally safe, don’t worry. They agreed from the beginning to protect the children’s privacy. Telling the world that your daughter is a mutant is your choice and nobody else’s.”</p><p>“Oh, ok.” I muttered, frowning a bit.</p><p>“Why don’t you go to the office, baby?” Lori suggested through a smile, genuinely pleased to hear the good news. “Adriana is there in case the kids call, she’ll help you sort out all these papers”</p><p>Paul narrowed his eyes in confusion before asking, “Why is Adriana in the office and not Anna? I ran into her when I was leaving.”</p><p>“We told her about Logan and Laura. She’s a bit... <em>overwhelmed</em>.” My friend said. </p><p>“Oh, that.” Paul mumbled awkwardly, blushing a bit as he scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, well…I’m going to give this to Adriana then.” he muttered, gesturing to the envelope in his hand, desperate to leave. “See ya.”</p><p>Lori shook her head, slightly amused, as we watched him disappear behind the school doors. “Playtime is almost over. Why don’t we take a break? I still have a huge jar of lemonade in the refrigerator” she said, rolling her eyes and offering her hand to help me back up. Making lemonade was the kids’ latest obsession and Lori was getting tired of<em> having</em> to drink it every day.</p><p> </p><p>Enough time passed to allow Lori’s worries to die away, more than three hours, actually. We were sitting at her kitchen table, getting drunk on lemonade as we spilled the beans about our lives. She was showing me some photos of her wedding, her family, and baby Gabrielle. I, in return, was telling her about my life before Transigen.</p><p>“Oh my god, so you were rich!” Lori was saying, fascinated with the conversation.</p><p>I chuckled. “No, I wasn’t exactly <em>rich</em> –and all the money is gone, anyway. I’m on the other side now-- but there was some class privilege going on. My disappearance became the talk of the town, but they forgot about all the other missing girls.”</p><p>“You mean the other moms at Transigen?” Lori asked, leaning back a bit, curiosity growing in her eyes.</p><p>“Yep. We were all from very different backgrounds. They chose their victims carefully.” I murmured solemnly. One day, I’d promised myself, I would find my friends’ parents and tell them what had happened to their daughters. They deserved to sleep peacefully at night.</p><p>“<em>God</em>, poor girls. You must have been so scared.” Lori breathed, before staring down at one of the photos on the table. “I can’t imagine being pregnant under such circumstances.”</p><p>I sighed. “You have no idea. Giving birth to Laura was easily the best and the worst experience of my life. I’d felt her move hours before--” I began, only to be interrupted by the sight of Marie entering the cabin. Her eyes were red and there were circles under them. She looked miserable, hurt beyond words.</p><p>“Do you mind if I listen to the story?” she asked, slowly approaching the table.</p><p>At this, Lori stood up and wrapped her arms around Marie. “Oh, honey” she said softly, “We’re so glad you’re back. We missed you.”</p><p>Lori motioned her to take a seat and Marie sat across from me. I went stiff. Despite her appearance, she was still intimidating. The mood in the room changed abruptly. There was a heavy and awkward silence.</p><p>“I…I don’t know where to start” I finally said, my voice trembling. I felt shaky, my stomach muscles were tight. I tried to sit straight, keep my composure. I had to choose my words wisely, for they had the power to set Eden on fire. “Laura…<em>my daughter</em>, she—"</p><p>“So your husband works for Alkali…Transigen --<em>whatever</em>-- and he just betrayed the company, basically.” Marie said in a flat voice.</p><p>“Tom is not my husband. We’re friends, and yes, that’s what he did.” I replied timidly, avoiding her eyes.</p><p>“Oh, he’s not your husband, I see…” she trailed off, crossing her arms. “--and Logan is alive and the father of a ten-year-old girl.”</p><p>“She just turned eleven, actually.” I mumbled before I could help myself.</p><p>She stared at me in disbelief. “Alright. So, not only is he good at playing hide-and-seek, he also excels at keeping secrets.” she said in a hard voice. </p><p>At this my jaw tightened, and I spoke through my teeth. “He wasn’t keeping it a secret. He didn’t know he had a daughter.”</p><p>“Yeah, that sounds like him.” she retaliated. “I guess that happens when you’re a <em>womanizer</em>.” Marie added under her breath.</p><p>That took me aback. I frowned deeply, tilting my head to one side. “<em>What?”</em></p><p>“You were underage when it happened, weren’t you?” she asked accusingly, arms still crossed.</p><p>I nearly swallowed my tongue. “No!” I replied, horrified. “I…I didn’t sleep with him, we didn't --<em>Jesus, no, ugh. Oh, my god</em> We’ve never even met!” I stammered, feeling my face getting red.</p><p>There was another awkward silence. Rogue looked extremely uncomfortable.</p><p>“Oh” was all she managed, blinking twice. “So you and Logan…?”</p><p>I sighed tiredly. It all had been a misunderstanding. “Marie, I don’t know my daughter” I confessed. “I lied to you the day we met. I’ve never held her, I’ve never talked to her, I’ve never even seen her in person.”</p><p>“But how…?” Marie stammered, even more confused than before, looking to Lori for clarification, who had been standing by the kitchen the whole time, practically frozen.</p><p>“I thought I’d given birth to a stillborn baby” I said, and the mutant turned her eyes back to me. “I was kidnaped by Transigen when I was sixteen and impregnated against my will; the company has the genetic codes of ‘dead’ male mutants. I managed to escape, but the other girls weren’t so lucky. Many of the workers there are victims too, Tom and some of the nurses risked their lives to help these children…”</p><p>Even though my story seemed beyond belief, Marie stayed quiet until the end, occasionally glancing at Lori, who would nod or even remind me of some key detail.</p><p>“I’m sorry.” Rogue muttered solemnly when I finished. “Especially for accusing you of handing your daughter over to Alkali. That was a stupid comment.”</p><p>“No, it’s fine. It was a logical assumption.” I assured her. “I’m actually glad that you got mad at me when you heard that. It means you genuinely care about the kids. We have Eden thanks to you.”</p><p>She shrugged, smiling a bit as she poured herself another glass of lemonade. “Yeah, well. Professor Xavier gave his life for this cause. It’s my moral responsibility to give back a little of what I received. I mean, this isn’t exactly Westchester but it’s a beginning.”</p><p>“Have you ever thought that maybe Logan and you aren’t the only survivors?” Lori asked curiously. Marie cringed a bit when she heard his name.</p><p>“Yeah, who knows?” she murmured through a sigh before adding, “But anyway, The X-Men are only a good memory. These mutant children are the future, a fresh start.”</p><p>“What happened to the mansion?” I inquired, feeling --<em>at last-- </em>comfortable enough around her to ask such things.</p><p>“It’s abandoned. When I first found out about the accident, I was furious with myself, and with <em>all of them</em>. I felt betrayed. It seemed so unfair. I began to play with the idea of Eden because I couldn’t face to lose everything we’d worked for. I knew what I had to do. And I did it. I thought the worst was behind me the day Eden received the first young mutants and their families... until I realized that I was expecting <em>them </em>at the front door, seeing <em>them</em> in the woods, hearing<em> their</em> voices. There were some terrible, terrible days when I felt I was finally cracking. I needed solitude, I needed to face up all the other losses.”</p><p>Marie stared down at her lemonade, she seemed to have some new worry on her mind.</p><p>“Is that why you were not checking your phone?” Lori asked gently.</p><p>“Mmm?” The mutant looked up, taken off guard by Lori’s question. “The phone? Ah, yes. I spent the last weeks in Japan training and tracking down some families. After being around monks and nature, I felt brave enough to visit the mansion and thank it.” There was a slight pause and then she smiled once more. “If things change for the better in the U.S, maybe someday we’ll be able to reopen the school. That’s why I want more families to come. The more we are, the more pressure we can put on the authorities. Things have to change, our kids deserve to live without fear.”</p><p>I smiled, especially at the ‘<em>our</em> kids’ part. This place was everything to her, and these children were hers too. Now I understood why Lori and Paul loved her so much.</p><p>“Does Laura know that you’re here?” Marie asked after a silence, changing the subject.</p><p>“No, Tom and I decided that it was best if nobody knew that I was alive. It was all very risky and one of the parents had to stay safe. Believe me, I wanted to do more, it was very hard to leave her in somebody else’s hands. We don’t know for sure if her nurse managed to find her dad, or where they are.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, if Laura isn’t here in two days, I’ll go looking for her myself.” Marie said softly, reaching for my hand.</p><p>“And I’ll come with you.” I replied firmly. For a moment I thought she was going to say something like <em>‘No, Tom is right. She needs her mom, you can’t come.’ </em>But instead, she squeezed my hand and nodded.</p><p>“We have to take precautions, though.” Marie said, going back to her professional self. “These children have been physically and mentally abused. We can’t let them be around the other kids without assessing their mental stability first. I’ll take care of this myself --I handled many teenagers with all sorts of issues back at Xavier’s<em>.”</em></p><p>“Ans she’s very good at it” Lori added. “She’s helped many of our children, including my Gabrielle. Oh, speak of the devil…”</p><p>The blonde girl was through the door before she saw Marie sitting at the table. She was wearing a superhero costume -–probably one of Marie’s presents-- which looked too warm for the present climate. Her eyes went wide as she ran towards the real-life superhero.</p><p>“ANNA!” she shouted. </p><p>“Hey, little monkey! Did you miss me?” Marie asked as she took the girl in her arms.</p><p>“Yes!” Gabrielle said enthusiastically, before noticing the empty jar of lemonade on the table. “Did you drink up all my lemonade!” she exclaimed loudly, a bit horrified, and we laughed.</p><p>“Yep” Marie replied, planting a kiss on the girl’s head. “And It was delicious” she added. Gabrielle pouted and crossed her arms, and at this, Marie tickled her.</p><p>“Stop it or I won’t tell you a secret!” the young mutant half screamed through a laugh.</p><p>Marie stopped and looked down at the child. “A secret uh? And what kind of secret is that?” she asked, her lips tugging upward into a devilish smile.</p><p>“I just passed in front of your office and heard Adriana and Daddy talking to the new children over the radio, and guess what?” Gabrielle asked, enjoying the attention.</p><p>Marie’s smile instantly vanished, she wasn’t playing anymore, none of us were, instead, we were staring intently at the child on her lap. “Adriana asked a boy if they would like us to send a couple of grown-ups to pick them up this Saturday, and you know what he said?”</p><p>Marie shook her head.</p><p>“He said, <em>‘No, thank you. The father of one of the girls is with us.’ </em>Isn’t it great?” Gabrielle asked through a wide grin.</p><p><em>“What!”</em> Marie yelped, grabbing the girl by the shoulders.</p><p>“And… he’s a mutant too.” the girl added hesitantly, taken aback by Marie’s unexpected reaction.</p><p>We all leaped out of our chairs and darted out the door. It took us less that a minute to get to the school. We continued along the long corridor, we were halfway through when the office door opened and Paul stepped out, a broad grin on his face.</p><p>“He’s with them. Logan and Laura are finally here.” he muttered.</p><p>Lori sighed in relief and threw her arms around her husband’s neck. Marie was frozen next to me; my joy was so great that I could not speak. My daughter was just a few miles away from me, away from my arms. It was several moments before I said, “I’m going to get her. I need her right now!”</p><p>“No!” Paul exclaimed, grabbing me by the arm when I brushed passed him. “No, the boy said they’ll all be here Saturday morning”</p><p>“So?” I frowned, and he shut his eyes tightly and sighed.</p><p>“Listen, I know you want your little girl right now, but they’re still expecting more children. Let them do it their way, please. These kids aren’t so helpless, and Logan is with them. Just wait a little longer, if we respect their rules, they’ll trust us.”</p><p>“He’s right” Marie finally said, snapping out of her stupor, though still trying hard to maintain her composure. “Log…he won’t let anything happen to the children, especially his own.” Her voice was abruptly somber, the daughter thing was still eating at her. “Let them do it their way.” she muttered.</p><p>I studied their faces for a long moment. I was cornered.</p><p>“Ok” I said, sounding defeated. I’d waited ten years for this, I could wait another three or four days. It was going to be hard to say the least, but there was comfort in knowing that she was with her dad and her… <em>hang on.</em> “Paul, is there only one adult with the children?” I asked.</p><p>Paul tilted his head, recalling Rictor’s words. “Yeah, just one. Why?”</p><p>“Gabriela --Laura’s nurse—she was supposed to come with them.” I said.</p><p>Paul shrugged. “Maybe she went back to Mexico after finding the girl's dad”</p><p>I was shaking my head. Gabriela wouldn’t leave Laura just like that. “Do you think I could talk to Logan?” I asked hopefully. At this, Marie went stiff and shot me a nervous glance.</p><p>“I… don’t think so.” Paul mumbled. “Rictor said that Laura and her dad were exhausted and he didn’t want to wake them up. I wish I could give you more information, but that’s all he told me. The kid’s quite reserved, he likes having the upper hand.”</p><p>“Oh, it’s ok. I just wanted to ask if everyone’s safe. Thank you.” I muttered as I stuffed my hands into my pockets and began to walk down the corridor, lost in my own thoughts. Marie’s eyes were on me.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>**"What about us", Pink.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. EVERYTHING WE NEVER TOLD THEM</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <em>**“Beyond the door</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>There's peace, I'm sure</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>And I know there'll be no more</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Tears in heaven”</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>It’s raining. I'm in a big house --my old house in San Angel-- the one with balconies and tall windows; the one surrounded by cobbled streets and bougainvillea blossoms. Everything's blurry, hazy, like a childhood memory. I make out a small and frail body. A girl. She’s soaked from head to toe, wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt, a smile playing on her lips. I can’t see her clearly, but I know who she is. I smile back at her, and she shivers. The temperature is dropping, I need to change her into dry clothes. I try calling her, but she looks at me quizzically. Her little limbs are turning blue. <em>‘Laura’ </em>I try again, and she glances around the living room, confused, as though looking for someone.</p><p>“Laura!” I cry. “Laura! Laura!”</p><p>Every time I call her name, more images form: a hospital bed, a windowless room, a bowl of gooey oatmeal, an empty box, a white space. We’re not in my house anymore. She’s walking away from me. I have to stop her before she disappears down the long hallway.</p><p>“Laura!”</p><p>“Laura!”</p><p>“Laura!”</p><p>She doesn’t turn around<em>. </em>She has forgotten her name.</p><p>I woke with a start. I was covered in sweat, my heart was racing. The memory of the girl lingered, one moment she was illuminating everything around me; the next, she was gone. I blinked twice and, slowly, began to recognize my surroundings, the world becoming clearer as I sat up. A book slipped off my lap and I remembered that I had been reading on my sofa, trying to relax a bit before going to bed. The living room was in darkness but for a dim, yellowish glow at one of the walls. Lori had told me to keep a fire in right through the summer to control the damp. In a corner of the room was a wooden kitchen table on which stood candles to read by at night and on cloudy days.</p><p>I stood up slowly and wiped the damp hair from my forehead. My hand was shaking a bit. I wanted to turn on the lights --I didn’t like this semidarkness-- but that would only wake up the neighbors, it would wake up Marie, and I didn’t want her knocking on my door in the middle of the night, asking if I was ok. She needed to get some sleep too. Instead, I padded over to the table and lit a candle.</p><p>I stood there, holding it out before me, struck by the novelty of total silence. I looked towards the small window, taking in the stillness, the startling beauty of the pine trees across the field. Before I could help it, I was expecting a car, a light through the thick trees, a little voice calling. I waited, but there was nothing.</p><p><em>“I want her back”</em> I whispered. <em>“I want her brought back now.”</em></p><p>+++++++++++++++++++++++++++</p><p>It had stopped raining, but the sound of water was louder. It spilled from the mossy logs and ticked away among the leaves. This had been a particular day, a day I could practically taste. It had been just as I'd wanted it to be: the tranquil, greenish air of a wet day in summer, the gentle rain, the chestnut horses being purified by it. It had been full of meaning and hope. </p><p>It was almost 10pm. I was standing by the door, looking around Laura’s room. Everything in it seemed to be waiting for her. <em>Lingering objects.</em> <em>What's to be done about them?</em> What were all these toys without a child to play with them? To love them? To own them? I was dismayed by the quantity. I had intended a few more items when I’d walked into that toy shop last week, two or three more gifts to make up for all the things she never had. It wasn’t until I'd handed over a shockingly large sum of money that I realized what I had done.</p><p>I shook my head and smiled to myself. Tomorrow, this pile of ponies and puzzles and sparkly backpacks wouldn’t look like a pointless abundance. The pink bed would be slept in, the story books would be read, the colorful pajamas would be worn, and each toy would have a reason to be there.</p><p>I went into the bathroom and stripped down completely before leaning over the tub to turn on the water. My reflection wasn’t pretty, I looked awfully tired and my skin looked a bit pale. Marie wasn’t the only one feeling overwhelmed by uncertainty and worry. I stepped into the tub cautiously and slid down into the warm comfort of water. I had to duck my head to wash my hair, but it felt glorious.</p><p>While I dried off, I noticed all the kids' bath accessories around the bathroom, and frowned. Reality was daunting, even when it was the best kind of reality. I dressed quickly and grabbed my water bottle and two blankets before leaving the cabin. Marie was a strong and gorgeous insomniac who quietly worried about everyone except herself, and that’s exactly why she’d spent the last three nights sleeping in her office, beside the radio. <em>‘You all need to take a break. I’ll be fine’ </em>had been her response every time we tried to persuade her to go home. Tonight, however, she’d asked me to stay with her.</p><p>The mutant was already in her office when I walked in, reclining on her leather chair, patiently waiting for me to arrive as a broad bar of moonlight bathed her in a mysterious glow. The desk was cluttered with chocolates, fizzy drinks, chips, cans of beer, candies, a bottle of wine, and a bottle of Scotch. She was wearing a pair of jeans, flat shoes, and a cotton t-shirt, her chocolate hair was drawn back in a straggly bun. All formalities were gone.</p><p>“Wine or Scotch?” she asked as I sat on the floor, near the window, placing the blankets and water bottle next to me.</p><p>“Right now, I could use a strong drink. But I’ll go for the beer.” I replied, stretching out my hand toward the desk to take a can.</p><p>At this, she smirked, arching an eyebrow at me in surprise. “And why is that?”</p><p>“I used to have a drinking problem.” I replied honestly, opening the can of beer. “It’s an annoying habit, very hard to break.” I added, looking up at her.</p><p>Marie’s mouth fell open a little. “You?” she asked with genuine incredulity.</p><p>“Yeah, me” I shrugged nonchalantly as I took a gulp of beer. “They made me believe that my daughter was dead so…” I trailed off. “<em>Whatever</em>, it happened a long time ago.”</p><p>“No, no.” she quickly replied. “I think you should talk about it, <em>let it out.”</em></p><p>“You’re not my psychologist, Marie.” I said a bit harshly, suddenly realizing why she’d asked me to come. I never really talked about my feelings with anyone, not even with my mom or Lori or Alma. I never saw a professional, a counselor or psychiatrist, and never attempted therapy. Marie was so observant it was annoying.</p><p>“No, I'm not. But I’m fucking curious.” she said casually, kicking her shoes off with the carelessness of a teenager as she opened the bottle of Scotch.</p><p>Her words baffled me for a moment. This wasn’t the professional, perfect, ex-superhero woman the world saw every day. She was letting her guard down, taking off her mask.</p><p>“I…I just couldn’t cope. I couldn't accept that she was dead.” I muttered, despite myself, as she poured herself a drink. “I felt…what do you call a mother who loses a child? There isn’t even a word for that.” I grumbled.</p><p>“So you didn’t care that they’d forced you to carry her?” she frowned as she got off her desk, glass in hand, and sat on the floor too.</p><p>“I did. I did care, <em>like a lot</em>.” I said, throwing one of the blankets to her. The night was getting colder. “I felt violated, used…I hated the thing growing inside me --because that’s what she was to me…<em>a thing</em>.” I confessed. “But one night, after nearly losing her, I realized that she was all I had. Laura was my only company, my confidant, my family. I would talk to her all the time. She kept me sane.” I chuckled, before taking another sip of beer. “You know, I always wanted to be a mom. Laura was in my heart as I grew up, waiting for the right moment to become real. I’m really sorry she had to come into the world this way, but I’m glad she’s here. This is my purpose. I was put on earth to be her mother.”</p><p>"Yeah, <em>you were</em>." Marie barely mumbled. She blinked back a few tears, but hid it through a sip of Scotch. I could guess what she was thinking. That thought was a big elephant in the room every time we were together. After a long moment of silence, I finally spoke.</p><p>“Marie…?” I whispered, gulping back a lump in my throat.</p><p>“Yes?” she muttered into the darkness, still trying to mask her feelings.</p><p>“Transigen took from <em>us</em> a whole bunch of things that weren’t theirs to take.” I murmured, remembering all the abuse I’d suffered. “And when I say <em>us</em>, I mean myself, Laura, Logan…<em>and you.”</em></p><p>At this, she lifted her head to meet my eyes. Her expression was unreadable.</p><p>“I’m well aware that this child should have been <em>yours,</em> and I’m sorry you’re hurting because of that.” I said softly, almost apologetically.</p><p>Marie couldn’t help it. She let out a choked sob, giving into the wave of sadness that she had been feeling since we’d met. My heart shattered into a million pieces at the sight.</p><p>“Yeah, <em>me too</em>.” she mumbled, wiping the tears off her face, a sweet helplessness clouding her eyes.</p><p>“Do you know why I’m opening up to you?” I murmured, and she shook her head in response, collecting herself. “Because you guessed right. I’m not well.”</p><p>Marie was listening attentively, like she was a companion on my journey, a spectator of my grief. She knew that whatever I had been keeping at bay was about to unleash itself like a group of wild horses charging through an open gate.</p><p>“Sometimes I don’t even recognize myself.” I continued, looking at her. “I can say that up to this day I don’t clearly remember my life before Transigen. I can’t remember my daily routine, my school, my friends. Occasionally, I remember bits and pieces, but it’s not like a memory, it’s more like fragments. Sometimes I’m afraid of failing myself, of failing her…”</p><p>“That’s not—" she muttered, but I was already interrupting her. </p><p>“No! Listen to me!” I raised my voice. “It’s not ok. I didn’t even try to save the other babies after I was rescued. I…I was furious.” My voice was urgent, and I wasn’t sure if I was talking to Marie or myself. “I couldn't sleep at night, I couldn't eat. I remember thinking to myself, <em>‘What do you care? You're already out of that place! Let them experiment on all those babies, kill them if they will! No matter! No one’s bringing yours back!’ </em>–and then I was drinking and sleeping around, unconsciously trying to delete that part of my life. I got to a point where my memory was betraying me, I couldn’t remember my swollen belly, my heavy breasts, how much I loved when she moved inside me, or even her tiny face on the ultrasound screen. I’d lost my child and then I’d begun to lose her memory--”</p><p>I stopped abruptly. The guilt had my eyes glued to the floor. I was breathing heavily, feeling slightly dizzy. I realized there were tears in my eyes. Marie was patiently waiting for me to focus my mind clearly, silently encouraging me to keep talking.</p><p>“My main goal is for Laura not to be affected by all this --I don’t want to neglect her.” I managed at last. “But sometimes the painful memories overwhelm me and all I can think about is what my daughter went through inside that facility. What she felt. The times she must have called out to me. When I think about all that my heart fills up again with sorrow and rage and hate… with everything I’ve struggled to let go of. I can’t offer Laura a mother full of hatred --a mother who can’t teach her to love.”</p><p>The last words prompted Marie to shake her head. She stood up and moved to sit in front of me. “That’s not going to happen.” she said quietly. There was a softness in her eyes that let me know she might have made a great mother to Laura.</p><p>I sighed, bringing my knees to my chest. The proximity of her body was easing my nerves. “Can't you see, Marie?” I asked gently. “My love for that baby was so unbelievably strong that I always managed to find someone to keep an eye on her. First it was nurse Mónica, then Tom, then Gabriela, then Logan… Don’t get me wrong, all I want is for her to be with me <em>--I am her mother</em>—but this isn’t over yet, I’m not well, and I know that sometimes… What I mean… I’m asking you to…” I paused and took a deep breath, closing my eyes momentarily. There was this sadness again, it sat somewhere between my heart and my stomach, a feeling I’d never been able to describe appropriately. “If you ever notice that something's wrong with me, <em>take her</em>. Please… just take her.”</p><p>Marie’s eyes were observant and concerned. She studied me for a long moment, as if trying to decide if I meant what I was saying. “I’ll always be there for her” she muttered at last, before adding, <em>“How could I not?"</em> Her voice broke a little and I threw my arms around her.</p><p>“Thank you” I managed, squeezing my eyes shut as I held her tight. </p><p>It was silent for two heartbeats, then I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “It’s your turn” I said, smiling just a little as I pulled back from her. “What happened to your hair?”</p><p>She looked down and smirked before getting to her feet, slightly amused by my question. “You mean the white streak?” she asked as she snatched two chocolate bars from the desk and tossed me one.</p><p>“Yeah, that.” I replied, catching the snack. “Why did you dye it dark?”</p><p>“Because I’m not that person anymore. Many things changed after Westchester.” she paused, turning to grin at me. “Also, because I was going incognito. How did you know I was Rogue?”</p><p>“I’m an accidental comic geek.” I laughed through a bite of chocolate, and she shook her head slightly. “Can I ask you a question about Westchester?” I asked casually. </p><p>“Sure” she replied, sitting on the edge of the desk, enjoying her candy.</p><p>“What made you think that Logan was dead? He has a healing factor.”</p><p>She cocked her head to the side. “That’s not a question about Westchester”</p><p>“It kinda is.” I shrugged.</p><p>She rolled her eyes and picked up the glass of Scotch she’d left on the floor. She stalled momentarily, looking away, and then said, “Last time I saw him his healing factor wasn’t working properly. I mean, it’s not like he couldn’t heal, <em>he could</em>, but it wasn’t as good as before and…” her face fell. “That deeply affected him.”</p><p>“How?” I asked curiously, crossing my legs on the floor. I was utterly focused, oblivious to everything else, some of the answers I’d been looking for were right there, sealed in her mouth.</p><p>“I don’t know, he just… changed. He rarely laughed, he rarely smiled, he was in pain all the time. As far as I knew he ate nothing at all. He just wanted to be away from everyone –<em>including me.</em>” she snorted, looking down at the glass in her hands. “For a month we circled warily. Sometimes he was polite, at others genuine and affectionate, and once we even made love. That night he sneaked into my room, we were lying face to face on the bed, I simply lifted my nightgown and turned and crouched on all fours. He moved inside me gently, in silence.” Marie smiled a bit at the memory. She was holding nothing back, there wasn’t a secret in her. She blinked once and then lifted up her head, looking to the wall for a moment before speaking again. “He could not talk to me about his pain, he was ashamed. It came to a point where he could not bring himself to look at me. There was no mutual consolation, no comfort, no trust. I wasn’t welcome.”</p><p>“Is that why you left?” I asked, my voice low, threaded with compassion.</p><p>“Yes and no.” Marie sighed, turning her eyes to me. “My time at the mansion was up, there was nothing for me there. The Professor’s health was deteriorating and the place was falling apart. I needed some air, a new perspective. I didn’t tell anyone that I was leaving. The plane had just landed in Peru when I heard the bad news. Perfect timing, don’t you think?” she added through a bitter smile.</p><p>“Life’s a bitch.” I muttered, thinking about all the times I’d felt that way.</p><p>She let out a laugh and tucked her hair behind her ears. “I knew Logan wouldn’t leave the Professor’s side, so I just assumed they’d both died.” she explained, before giving another sigh. “Anyway, in the end I got the perspective I was wishing for. I was alive for a reason.”</p><p>“I agree. You saved us all, we're in heaven.” I grinned, looking up at her, before adding, “Let’s make a deal. Once the children are settled in, we go and find out if any of your friends are still out there. Westchester deserves another chance. <em>You</em> deserve another chance.”</p><p>“Deal” she said, winking at me. “Although I think I should go check what’s going on in Mexico City first.”</p><p>“Right” I frowned. “I can help you with that, of course. I know people.”</p><p>She spent another hour and a half talking about the good old days. By the time she got to the part where she found out we’d been trying to find her, we were wrapped up in our blankets, laughing like idiots --the wine long gone. At one point we had to act like responsible grown-ups and call it a night.</p><p>I found a spot by the window and curled up. She was sitting behind her cluttered desk, lost in thought.</p><p>“Marie” I whispered, trying to keep my eyes open.</p><p>“Yeah?” she replied absently.</p><p>“Don’t be so hard on Logan. He must have had a good reason to hide away…maybe he didn’t know you were alive, or maybe he was trying to protect you.” I muttered. “Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”</p><p>Her gaze softened and she smiled. “I know”</p><p>“And Marie?”</p><p>“Mmm?”</p><p>“You and I are the same” I said as leaned my head against the wall and let my eyelids close.</p><p>+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++</p><p>
  <em>What happens after a loss? What do we do after we lose someone? Maybe we search here and there. There are no coincidences anymore. We begin to find signs, messages. We seek them. We search and search until the certainty of having lost them forever strikes us. Then we find ourselves living in parallel worlds: the world of memories, where everything finds its place; and the present world, where nothing makes sense. </em>
</p><p>I was confused when I woke up. I couldn’t tell if I my thoughts were still hazy or if the voices I was hearing were real. It took me a few moments to remember where I was. I glanced to the desk, it was still cluttered, chocolate wrappings littered the floor, the bottle of wine was empty. Marie wasn’t around. I winced, rubbing my neck. I felt awful. <em>“Fucking wine”</em> I muttered to myself as I staggered to my feet. The voices were getting louder, they were coming from outside. Suddenly, it all came back to me. I strode over to the window, peering out into the morning light.</p><p>I blinked. My brain was controling the speed of time, everything was moving slowly. Doors were being opened and people were spilling out into the gardens. Some of the occupants of the cabins clustered on their porches and steps watching silently as events unfolded. The rest of them were running towards the front doors, carrying blankets, bottles of water, aid kits, even clothes. I recognized Lori and Paul among the crowd. The bobbing faces were abstracting themselves into blurry images with a comic-book range of expressions: surprised, horrified, euphoric, determined. Paul disappeared briefly and reemerged carrying something. It was a girl, a <em>blondish</em> girl wearing a dirty blue blouse. She’d passed out. I’d never seen her before.</p><p>She wasn’t the only one. I had a glimpse of features, there was tall girl with curly hair, a young boy, a couple of dark-haired girls, a chubby kid.</p><p>
  <em>They were here, the children. </em>
</p><p><em>‘Laura’ </em>I heard myself say. My body reacted faster than my mind. I tore the door open and rushed out of the office. The corridor seemed to be spinning, my heart was stuck in my throat, my legs weren’t moving as fast as I wanted them to. There was a woman standing at the far end of the corridor, gripping the wall for balance, crying. Her eyes focused on me abruptly and she stopped sobbing long enough for me to get a glimpse of her face. It was Marie.</p><p>I was so desperate to get to Laura that for a moment I considered running past her, but the pain in her eyes stopped me in my tracks.</p><p>“Marie!” I cried, putting my hands on her shoulders. “What’s wrong!”</p><p>She stood motionless, her eyes were dazed and far away. “Logan” she choked out. “The children got ambushed…Transigen… <em>they</em> had a weapon”</p><p>In all of my body only my eyes moved, widening in shock as I stared at Marie. I didn’t at first make sense of her bleak face, but then her words struck me. <em>The weapon.</em></p><p>“Where is she! Where is she!” I shouted hysterically.</p><p>My reaction must have brought Marie to her senses because she quickly put her hands on my shoulders, holding me in place. “She's alive, she's alive. I just saw her, she’s here.” she soothed me. Her eyes were tortured as she struggled to say her next words. “He died for her. He saved her.”</p><p>I stared at her blankly. It took me a few seconds to comprehend before my voice came back to me. “I want to see her.” The words strangled in my throat. “Where is she?”</p><p>Marie shook her head as she put herself between me and the door. “I don’t think—”</p><p>“—where is my daughter, Marie!” I said with desperate impatience, trying to push her aside.</p><p>“I won’t tell you.” Her voice rang with finality. She was still blocking the exit.</p><p>I looked at her with an incredulous stare. <em>“What?”</em></p><p>“Laura is devastated, she’s not talking, she doesn't want anyone to touch her or get near her. I need to talk to her first. Trust me on this, I know what I’m doing. I know how to handle this.” The words rushed from her lips, she was staring at me wildly.</p><p>“Who do you think you are?” I snarled through narrowed eyes, feeling my blood boil. “Just because you saw her first doesn’t mean you know what’s best for her! I am <em>her </em>mother!” I spat, then brushed past her and strode out of the school. The asphalt underfoot radiated heat collected from the morning sun.</p><p>I felt disgusted with myself after saying the last part. I respected Marie’s expertise, but no one knows better than a child’s mom when something’s not okay.</p><p>“Wait, Sarah!” she called after me. “I know that! I’m sorry! Stop! <em>Please!</em>”</p><p>I stopped, turning back to her. I didn’t even know where I was going.</p><p>“Listen!” she shouted, hurrying to catch up with me. “I need to make sure it’s safe for you –-or anyone-- to be around her. That’s all.”</p><p>I flinched a little, replaying Tom’s words in my head,<em> ‘Even if it means dying at the hands of your own child?’</em></p><p>“I promise that you’ll be able to speak freely and console her without anyone’s presence in no time at all. I just need you to trust me with your kid for a little while.” she muttered with a sound of genuine concern hanging on her words.</p><p>I observed her carefully. Her expression showed how vulnerable she was really feeling beneath her ‘professional mask’. I deliberated, and then nodded meekly and placed my arms around her, holding her tight.</p><p>“I would trust you with her life.” I said quietly before whispering in her ear, “I’m really sorry for your loss. I’m so sorry”</p><p>She nodded quickly, releasing herself from the embrace. She was trying too hard to look strong. “Stay in my office, don’t go out or let anyone in until I come back.” she practically ordered before walking away.</p><p> </p><p>I felt sharp impatience and frustration as I waited in Marie’s office. Laura had lost her father, the only person in the world who understood what it was like to be <em>her</em>. It wasn’t fair, she was supposed to be happiest the girl in the world when she arrived, and now she had to endure a terrible loss.</p><p>I was currently standing by the window with an empty glass. <em>The scotch had been too tempting to resist.</em> The frenzy outside had been replaced by calmness, Eden was so calm it was making me uneasy. I began to pace across the floor to the door, but when I reached it I immediately turned round and paced the other way again. The concept of time no longer seemed to be a constant in my mind as the minutes soon turned into hours. I was trembling more and more as my nerves began to unravel.</p><p>“This is absurd” I muttered to myself.</p><p>Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.</p><p>“It’s me, you locked the door” Marie’s voice came from the other side.</p><p>I quickly unlocked it and she stepped into the office. Her face was calm and controlled, it gave no hint of the churning of her insides.</p><p>“How is she?” I hurried to ask.</p><p>“She wants to be alone. I don’t know how to even begin, I mean…” Her voice trailed away and her chest lifted on a heavy sigh. “You probably don’t want to hear this, but she’s an extremely difficult child. <em>God</em>, she’s so much like <em>him</em>…”</p><p>I frowned. “How do you mean?”</p><p>She clutched her arms round herself and shrugged. “She’s so determined, so hard to reach. It took me hours before I could get her to trust me, and all I got from her were whispered monosyllables”</p><p>“But that’s because she has a—”</p><p>“—she has a condition, I know. Rictor was there too, he told me.” Marie explained “But she can’t go on not talking.”</p><p>“Give her a break. She’s been through a lot” I breathed. </p><p>“See? That’s exactly what I mean when I say that she’s like him. <em>She knows how to get her way.</em> I asked her a question, she looked at Rictor, and he dutifully answered for her. The situation was resolved, all without her saying a word!” Marie exclaimed, then she shook her head. “We can’t keep reinforcing this. Only after realizing that I was as determined and stubborn as her did she begin to whisper. And I’m not being mean, I’m only trying to help her, ok?” she added, dropping her arms.</p><p>I smiled at this. It was hard to admit, but Marie was ahead of me; in a way she already knew this kid –<em>his kid</em>-- and that made her feel terribly responsible for Laura. I felt sorry for my daughter, <em>Rogue</em> was going to give her a hard time.</p><p>“I know” I said calmly. “Do what you have to do.”</p><p>Marie blinked. </p><p>“Oh…<em>thanks</em>” she muttered, a little surprised. “Also, I don’t think she’s dangerous –I mean, she is—but not like we thought. All of them are quite…normal.”</p><p>“But you never answered my question, how is she?” I pressed.</p><p>“She’s completely shattered. She doesn’t want to eat or drink anything, and she refuses to change into clean clothes or let go of her backpack.” Marie said, her face suddenly desolate.</p><p>“So you didn’t tell her that I'm here?” I inquired.</p><p>She shook her head. “No, I couldn’t bring myself to do it –but don’t worry, I promise to explain the situation to Laura before sending her to you.”</p><p>“When can I see her?” I asked hopefully.</p><p>“Soon. Let’s leave her alone for a while, see if she can get some sleep.” Marie said, opening the door. “I’ll have Paul and Lori bring you something to eat.”</p><p>“Marie!” I called after her. “You know you can talk to me, right?”</p><p>With a resigned sigh, she turned to meet my gaze. “Yeah, well… Lo…Logan wasn’t the only victim…” she stammered after a short silence. “Rictor told me that Laura was traveling with Professor Xavier too.”</p><p>“What!” I whispered, shocked.</p><p>“Logan was looking after him, they were hiding out in the Mexican desert. This is just…I…<em>I’m sorry.”</em> she whimpered, the emotion that had been mounting inside her suddenly getting the better of her.</p><p>“I don’t even know what to say” I murmured. </p><p>“There’s nothing to say.” she muttered, wiping the tears off her eyes as she tried to regain control once more. “By the way... you have a beautiful daughter.” Marie added quietly, her gaze pinned to the floor, and then closed the door behind her.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>**"Tears In Heaven", Eric Clapton.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. NOW, YOU RUN ON HOME TO YOUR MOTHER</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong> <em>**”Oh how quiet, quiet the world can be</em></strong> <strong> <em><br/></em> </strong></p><p>
  <strong> <em>When it's just you and little me</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Everything is clear and everything is new</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>So you won't be leaving, will you?”</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Dear Laura</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Eleven years have passed since the day I lost you. There is not a minute that goes by that I don’t think about you. I know that we will see each other again soon, and when you are older I will explain this all to you, and you will know that I never, ever, ever wanted to be separated from you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You are always with me, you've always been with me, you are always in my heart and you always will be.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>There will be times when you will have to make tough choices. When you are faced with one of these tough choices, know that you are strong and that whatever choice you make will be the right one for you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Whenever you feel alone, always remember that you are loved, that you are safe. Come to me when you want to sleep, when you want to talk, when you want to cry. I am, and will be, with you always.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Mamá.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>August 2029</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Eden Sanctuary, Canada</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>5:09pm</strong>
</p><p>“They’re so happy to be here, they’re wonderful!” Paul exclaimed enthusiastically as he opened a can of coke. Some of the parents had decided to keep me company while I was in the office, waiting for Marie to bring Laura. We had turned the place into a leisure room.</p><p>“Especially Bobby” Adriana added.</p><p>“Yeah, cute little fellow. We want to adopt them all!” Paul said loudly, letting out a rich laugh.</p><p>Lori frowned and looked at her husband, she was currently sitting on the edge of the desk, sucking on a lollipop. “Hey, that wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Gabrielle would love to have a sister”</p><p>“Where are they now?” I asked curiously, standing in my favorite spot by the window.</p><p>“In their new cabin, settling in. I think…” Lori trailed off, abruptly standing. “Hold on” she said as she darted out the door, leaving us all confused.</p><p>“I don't know why I married that weird girl” Paul joked, drinking a heavy gulp of his coke.</p><p>Five minutes later we heard an incessant chatter in the hallway. One by one the children began to walk through the door with the pent energy of a tidal bore wave and take up a position just a couple of feet from where I was sitting. With so many people in the office it was a squeeze and their little shoulders were rammed tight together. I rose out of my seat, careful not to move too quickly, and surveyed their faces. There were three dark-haired girls to my right, but none of them was Laura. They all looked perfectly normal, except for one boy with yellow eyes and sharp teeth.</p><p>They fell silent, all of them were aware of my close scrutiny, but I kept checking all the faces. The sight was just amazing. There was strength, determination, and an unsettling kind of wisdom in their eyes –<em>they’d been forced to grow overnight</em>-- but there was also kindness, empathy, and compassion. They were not mindless monsters, they were <em>human</em>. The nurses’ infinite patience and unconditional love had saved their humanity; without knowing, these women had set them free from the very start.</p><p>“Guys, this is Sarah” Lori said excitedly, clasping her hands. “She escaped from Transigen when she was younger. You’re here thanks to her and her boyfriend, they helped the nurses save you all.”</p><p>One of the oldest kids –-a tall, bronze-skinned, beautiful looking boy-- took a step forward and stretched out his hand. “Thank you, Sarah” he said. I stared at him with half a smile and instead of shaking his hand, I pulled him into a tight long hug.</p><p>“You must be Rictor --<em>Oh, my god.</em> I’m so happy to see you again. You’re so big” I muttered, emotion clogging my throat. He was the baby who had dared me to come closer, who had taught me to love Laura. In a way, he was my boy too.</p><p>Rictor gave me a confused stare as I pushed him gently from me, but didn’t say anything.</p><p>“Are Tamara and Rebecca here?” I asked, turning my eyes to the other kids, scanning their faces once more.</p><p>A tall girl with long, curly brown hair took a step forward; and one second later, her friend, an equally tall girl with blonde hair did the same.</p><p><em>“¿Tamara?”</em> I muttered, tenderly smiling at the brunette. She gave a nod and I turned my eyes to the other girl. <em>“¿Y Rebecca?”</em> I asked softly. She too gave a nod and I studied their faces for a moment. It was a bitter-sweet feeling, these beautiful girls were growing into young women and both of them looked so much like my two friends. “I met your mothers. They must be so happy that you’re safe” I whispered suddenly. At this, their eyes widened and a huge smile formed on their faces.</p><p>“You met my mom? What was she like?” Rebecca asked curiously, and I just had to answer.</p><p>Soon, there was a general relaxation, a stirring of young limbs, a mutter that gained in volume. The kids were listening to my story and we were listening to theirs. The blondish girl I’d seen earlier in Paul’s arms –Charlotte-- was now sitting happily on Lori’s knees as the woman ran her fingers through the girl’s hair, trying to untangle it. Some of the other kids were sitting on the edge of desk, eating snacks. The famous Bobby was sitting on the floor with his head propped up on his hands.  He’d guessed I was Laura’s mom.</p><p>“Are sure that Transigen isn’t after you anymore?” Adriana asked, opening a bottle of juice for little Jonah.</p><p>“We’re sure” Bobby replied with confidence. “Logan shot Dr. Rice and we took care of Donald Pierce. Laura shot the clone in the head, but it probably isn’t dead.”</p><p>“Yeah, we should go back in a few days and see if it’s still there.” Delilah, a cute girl with pretty dark eyes suggested.</p><p>“Absolutely not!” Leo, one of the parents, exclaimed loudly. “Nobody is going back, none of you. Don’t even think about it.”</p><p>Lori nodded, taking her eyes off Charlotte’s hair for a couple of seconds. “Exactly, you have to relax and learn to be kids. The grown-ups will take care of everything.”</p><p>I looked up at Rictor, who was currently leaning against one of the walls, soda in hand. “Rictor, what happened to the nurses?” I inquired.</p><p>The overall mood of the children turned somber and depressing to say the least. Rictor cleared his throat nervously and looked down at the can in his hand. “María went back to her son after helping us escape, we don’t know if she’s ok. Valeria, Paty, and Gabriela…we lost them…”</p><p>My body stilled. I was aware of time passing, a glimpse of light outside. I couldn’t say anything, I didn’t know whether to be angry or sad or hurt.</p><p>“I’m sorry” Paul mumbled, breaking the silence. “I’m sure you did everything you could to protect them.”</p><p>“We did” Charlotte whispered, and Lori placed a kiss on her head. “We couldn’t bury them or anything, we had to leave them behind. At least we could bury Logan.” she sighed.</p><p>“Where did you bury him?” I asked, walking over to the window. I didn’t want them to see the expression on my face.</p><p>“In the woods” I heard Rebecca say. “We dragged him to a nice spot, a kind of meadow. Laura chose the place, she couldn’t stop crying…” the girl trailed off.</p><p>I flinched at the mention of Laura’s name. She was alone in one of the cabins, grieving. This was so wrong, I shouldn’t have listened to Marie. I should be by my daughter’s side, holding her, trying to ease her pain.</p><p>I turned around, determined, and began to walk towards the door.</p><p>“Excuse me” I muttered.</p><p>“Where are you going?” Paul asked, bewildered.</p><p>“I said <em>excuse me</em>” I repeated in a flat voice.</p><p>However, just as I was stepping over someone’s legs, the door opened and Marie walked into the office. She looked exhausted, absent, colorless <em>--like wax.</em></p><p>“Kiddos, can you give us a moment?” she asked, looking round the room. Her voice was, like her face, completely dead. “Adriana and the rest of the parents will show you around”</p><p>The silence was immediate, confused. Marie remained by the door as the parents and the children obediently stood and slowly began to leave the office. I took a few steps back and looked at Marie, she met my gaze and answered my silent question with a single nod.</p><p>We waited thirty seconds or so before everyone was out of the office. Once the room was finally empty, Marie relaxed her features a bit and smiled at me. The silence was loud, too loud. I let some air out of my lungs and watched as Marie pulled the door open a few inches and stuck her head out.</p><p>“Come in, Laura” she muttered.</p><p>I was holding my breath. The world was holding its breath.</p><p>My knees buckled as the girl walked through the door. She was wearing a bloodstained jean jacket over a grey unicorn t-shirt, dirty jeans, and combat boots. Her knuckles were caked in dried blood and she was holding the same green backpack I’d bought so long ago. She was short, her eyes were a bit red and swollen, her tanned cheeks were dirty, her dark hair was tangled and wild. These were the same eyes, the same sharp features from the photograph I’d obsessively looked at for the past months.</p><p>I was finally looking at my daughter.</p><p>Our eyes locked then. A quietness enveloped us. In her complete stillness and shocked silence there was an accusation. <em>Where were you? Had you forgotten me? I am back. I am alive.</em> Barely feeling my legs, I closed the gap between us in a split second and swept her up into my arms, relief and pure love blooming inside me. I found myself crying uncontrollably, sinking to my knees, holding her tight. The invisible child was suddenly flesh.</p><p>“<em>I’m sorry, I’m sorry</em>” I muttered again and again through my tears.</p><p>Far from being baffled or frightened, Laura wrapped her slim arms around me and began to sob into my neck. I was stroking the back of her head, relishing the weight of her in my arms --her little body was so compact, so real. <em>She was real</em>. And it was then, eleven years late, that I got to kiss at last the cheeks of the tiny, irreplaceable baby with jet black hair that had been cruelly snatched away from me.</p><p>We held onto each other for a long time, in silence, and as it became less bitter, less difficult, I began to release her from the embrace and stand up. I was still shaking, so I lowered myself into one of the chairs and she moved to stand in front of me. I put my hands on her face, cupping her tear-stained cheeks, she was looking at me with expectant eyes. I studied her for a few seconds, clinging to the details of her features, concentrating so fully on them that I was not able to speak to her at all. It was like instant familiarity. It was like I’d been looking at her for all of my life.</p><p><em>“Laura”</em> I finally whispered, the pad of my thumb tracing her warm cheek.</p><p>A shaky smile formed on her lips.</p><p>“Do you know who I am?” I asked tenderly, placing my hands on her waist. I was a bit afraid of her answer. It was an irrational fear. This was the very same question I would ask her in those disturbing dreams I sometimes had.</p><p>Laura blinked once, closely watching my face, and then nodded twice, slowly, before wiping her eyes with the dirty sleeve of her jacket. For a moment I thought she was not going to speak, so I opened my mouth to say my next words. But then something magical happened. Her smile broadened and fresh tears welled up in her eyes.</p><p><em>“Mamá” </em>she barely whispered. Her voice was sweet and light.</p><p>My heart stopped, time stood still. Unable to say anything, I simply fastened my arms around her and pulled her onto my lap, smothering her face with a barrage of kisses. All the sorrow, all the empty waiting was finally over. “Yes, baby, I’m here.” I told her quietly.</p><p>She rested her head on my shoulder, and I pressed her tightly to the warm cocoon of my arms and chest, running my hands through her soft hair. She seemed to be lost in thought, silent tears were rolling down her cheeks.</p><p>“Shhh. It’s ok.” I muttered into her temple, curling my fingers around her little hand, before fixing my eyes on her once more. </p><p>Everybody said that Laura looked like me, <em>and she did</em>, but now that I was seeing her in person, I began to notice a few differences. Her hair wasn’t actually jet black like mine, it was one or two shades lighter; there was hazel in her eyes, her lips were thinner than mine, and her cute nose was a bit unfamiliar. For as long as I had been a mother, I had refused to accept that she wasn’t totally mine. I forgot, most of the time, that she resembled her father too. Now, in Laura’s face, I suddenly, <em>finally</em>, saw a flash of Logan.</p><p>However, the main difference between us could be found in her eyes. All the pure innocence I’d seen in the Laura from the videos had been partially replaced by an intimidating, baffling maturity that can only be achieved when one has faced experiences that most of us can’t even pretend to understand. In a way, she was the grown up and I was the child.</p><p>We stayed in silence for a few minutes, relishing each other’s touch and company. Laura was snuggled up to me, reluctant to let go of my hand, her slow and steady breathing suggested sleep, but her eyes were open, her gaze defocused. I could feel my chest getting damp with her sweat, the body heat through her jean jacket was fierce and persistent. I gently reached under it and touched her back. Her tender skin was hot and sticky, her cotton T-shirt a bit wet. It was then that I remembered she’d refused to eat or drink anything, or even change out of her ruined clothes.</p><p><em>“¿Laura?” </em>I whispered, and she instinctively lifted up her head, finding my gaze.</p><p>“Why don’t you want to take this off, baby? You’re overheating” I asked, already peeling the bloodstained jacket off her. </p><p>“<em>Porque no la quiero perder</em>” she murmured soflty. </p><p>Her words took me by surprise. It was as if someone had touched a switch. I was confused, all the other kids were communicating in English, I thought--</p><p>I snorted and shook my head as a smile formed on my lips. “No la vas a perder, mi amor” <em>You won't lose it, my love. </em>I mumbled, planting a kiss on my daughter’s forehead, trying to mask my surprise. Laura smiled a bit at this, as though she was relieved to hear me speak in Spanish.</p><p>I put the jacket on the floor and reached for one of the drinks on Marie’s desk before snagging a couple of tissues from a box of Kleenex. I wiped the sweat from her forehead and neck gently, then opened the drink and gave it to her. She gulped down a mouthful of water, then another, and another. It was so satisfying to see that she was allowing me to take care of her. She’d rejected all the other adults’ help, even Marie’s.</p><p><em>“¿Mejor?”</em> I asked, after she had handed the bottle back to me.</p><p><em>“Sí”</em> she replied simply, wiping some drops of water from her lips. Laura looked much better now, more alert, even some of her sadness had vanished. But she also looked terribly uncomfortable in those dirty jeans and boots.</p><p>“¿Por qué no vamos a casa para que descanses un poco?” <em>Why don’t we go home so you can rest?</em> I muttered, brushing her wild hair out of her eyes. </p><p>At this, her mood turned upward. “We have a home?” she asked through wide eyes in a thick Mexican accent. I frowned a little. I didn’t get it, her Spanish was absolutely perfect. How strange.</p><p>“Yes, we do, <em>bebé</em>” I said, pinching her cheek playfully. <em>“¿Vamos?”</em></p><p>She gave me her prettiest smile and nodded, even as she slipped off my lap. Then she picked up her backpack and jacket from the floor and rushed to hold my hand, seeking my touch.</p><p>The school was deserted, it was already half past eight and everyone had gone to their cabins. We went along the hallway to the main entrance. Laura was relaxed, excited even, and at one point, as we walked in silence, she gave a little skip and looked up quickly to smile at me. </p><p>I pushed open the doors and we stepped out into the balmy night. There was a kind of calm-after-a-storm feeling floating in the air. Lights were still on in the cabins. I led Laura silently among them, savoring the feeling of her little hand in my own.</p><p>Marie was leaning on her porch. I’d been so concentrated on Laura that I never noticed when she left the office. The streetlight located directly in front of her cabin partially illuminated her figure, she was holding a glass of Scotch in one hand and a cigarette in the other, looking somewhere into the darkness. She looked increasingly depressed, <em>trapped</em>. When she felt my eyes on her, she turned to meet my gaze.</p><p>Her brown eyes shifted their attention from me to Laura, down to our hands, then back to Laura. She was staring at my daughter with longing eyes, as if my girl was what she needed the most right now. I wanted to go to her and touch her --her shoulder, her hand, anywhere-- and tell her that everything was going to be ok. That none of this was her fault. That we were here for her. Slowly, she brought her eyes back up to me. Her face had a pleading look.</p><p>“Thank you” I mouthed the words.</p><p>Marie gave me a melancholic smile and nodded once, her chocolate eyes glistening with tears. Then she turned around and went back into the safety of her cabin, no longer comfortable with the sight of this child that did and did not resemble Logan.</p><p>Laura looked up at me with large, questioning eyes, so I leaned down and kissed her hot forehead. “Let’s go” I muttered simply.</p><p>The front door was not locked. It gave straight onto the living room, which was brightly lit. On the table was a vase with flowers and a carton of orange juice. By it, on the floor, was a stack of Science books, novels, magazines, and newspapers. Some of my notes were scattered on the kitchen counter.</p><p>Laura hesitated, taking in all the amenities she probably hadn’t seen in a while as she laid her jacket over a chair. That small, insignificant action instantly brought to my mind the idea of <em>home</em>.</p><p>A smile broke on my lips. “¿Quieres ver tu cuarto?” <em>‘Would you like to see your room?’ </em>I asked, and she nodded slightly, holding out her hand to me once more, afraid to let me out of her sight. Weeks later, a very concerned Marie was to call me into her office to tell me that Laura was constantly looking for reassurance --<em>‘My mom's at home, right?'--</em> when she was at school or when I wasn't around. </p><p>I led the way and pressed open the door to her room before turning on the lights. Laura stepped forward until she was at the foot of the bed. She set down her bag as her eyes drifted upward, taking in the surrealist mural, then she walked round the bed and looked silently around the room, registering all the toys and clothes and books. Meanwhile, I sat on the edge of the bed and watched as her eyes fell on the American Girl doll and its chestnut horse. Laura took a step forward and knelt in front of them to get a closer look, but instead of reaching for the toys she so obviously wanted to touch, she clasped her hands in her lap nervously and bit her lip, fighting the urge to put her hands on them.</p><p>“<em>Son tuyos, princesa.</em> Everything in this cabin is yours” I said to her softly, unable to contain a swell of pure happiness. Laura turned and gave me a timid smile and, without wasting any time, grabbed the exquisite toy horse and began to run her fingers over its brown, velvety body.</p><p>“That's the first toy I bought you” I muttered.</p><p>When I said that, Laura jumped to her feet, as if a thought had struck her mind, and fetched her backpack. I frowned as she determinedly rummaged through it and pulled out another toy horse. She looked at it momentarily and then quickly crossed the room and placed it carefully next to the other. </p><p>I remained silent as Laura knelt once more and contemplated the two horses thoughtfully.</p><p><em>“Ese me lo compró Gabriela” </em>she finally said, pointing to the ‘new’ horse as she looked up at me adoringly, her tangled dark hair partially covering her face. We grinned at each other for a second, and then her face clouded over. “They killed her too” she said quietly. The old, familiar grief constricting her voice.</p><p>My eyes softened and I moved to kneel by her side. Talking about the people she’d lost was going to be a triggering and uncomfortable process, but I didn’t want her loved ones to become a taboo subject. I wanted my daughter to be able to grieve them and say their names in my presence. I didn’t want her to feel like she was breaking an unspoken rule.</p><p>“She was your mother, <em>wasn’t she?”</em> I asked gently, cautiously. I tried to keep my voice even, but the question was too hard.</p><p>Laura hesitated, flinching slightly, and then her gaze shifted to a corner of the room. I reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, waiting for whatever she was feeling to go away.</p><p><em>“No”</em> she answered at last, shaking her head slowly. Her voice was utterly sincere.<em>“Tú eres mi mamá” </em>she added as she tenderly wrapped her arms around my neck. I held her close in response<em>, </em>kissing the silky skin under her ear.</p><p>“Está bien hablarme de ‘ellos” <em>It’s ok to talk to me about ‘them’.</em> I whispered then, and I was sure she knew what I meant.</p><p>Laura was not like her friends. Although all of them had been abused and neglected, their weak bodies had saved them somehow. None of them had a healing factor, they didn’t have to endure the extra pain, the severe physical tortures that my child had suffered. I realized I was just scratching the surface when it came to her emotional issues. The battle ahead was going to be long and difficult. If Laura wasn’t such a strong-willed little girl, Transigen would have broken her.</p><p>She inhaled slow and deep as I gently pushed her away. I gathered myself enough to once more stand up, then I walked over to the dresser and pulled out her flamingo print pajamas and a pair of underwear.</p><p>“<em>Ven, amor</em>” I said, holding out my hand to her. Laura got to her feet slowly, rubbing her tired eyes as she did so, and dutifully stuck her grubby hand into mine.</p><p>I steered her towards the bathroom --it was time we did something to restore her appearance. I closed the door behind us and put her clean clothes on the sink before sitting on the edge of the tub, then I leaned over to turn on the water and poured in just a little jasmine sea salt. In less than a minute the small bathroom was overwhelmed with steam. The water began to turn a gentle purple and I waded my hand through it gently to speed up the process.</p><p>I turned and caught Laura staring at me, so I winked. She winked back, but clumsily, wrinkling her nose a little. I couldn’t help but smile amusedly and sweetly as I walked over to her. Nobody had ever taught her to wink.</p><p>I easily pulled the unicorn t-shirt upward and off my daughter before kneeling in front of her to unbutton her jeans. I probably should have asked for her permission before undressing her, but it just seemed very natural to take care of my kid, it was easy to forget that she hadn’t always been here with me. I felt her hand stroking my hair as I unlaced her boots and took her socks off. It was pretty evident that she had worn this outfit for days, and I was outraged at the amount of dirt and blood on the fabrics. When she was finally undressed, I took a moment to estimate her general health.</p><p>There were no signs of malnourishment, and although her knuckles were covered in dried blood, her limbs and torso were relatively clean, which meant that the blood on her clothes wasn’t hers. <em>Thank God</em>. Her skin was smooth and flawless --not a single scratch or scar. <em>Her ability to heal was amazing</em>. But what was most strikingly curious was her body composition. Unlike most children her age, Laura had virtually no body fat and slightly larger than normal, well-defined muscles. They were not huge --she didn’t look like some body builder-- but it was clear that she was stronger than average. Also, she hadn’t hit puberty yet and she seemed to be growing much slower than her friends. I suddenly found myself worrying that she might outlive everyone she loved. </p><p><em>"Me las quiero quedar"</em> Laura’s voice snapped me out of my reverie. She was pointing to the pile of dirty clothes.</p><p>“That?” I asked, inwardly cringing at the thought of having to remove all those blood stains.<em> “¿Por qué, mi vida?</em> You have tons of new clothes in your wardrobe”</p><p>Laura shuffled uneasily in front of me and then shrugged. For some strange reason, she wasn’t ready to tell me why she wanted to keep these ruined clothes. It was total silence in the bathroom but for our breathing, she was waiting for me to say something.</p><p>I sighed. “<em>Claro que sí, preciosa. </em>Of course you can keep them” I replied softly as I took her hand and helped her into the tub.</p><p>I knelt near the rim, dipped the shower sponge in the warm water and began to clean her face and shoulders. Her clothes, as well as her personal hygiene had revealed something about Logan: he was a simple man. He’d come to the conclusion that if he could wear the same outfit for days and only shower every once in a while, so could his little girl.</p><p>I shook my head and smiled, running the sponge over Laura's arms. But when I reached out to wash the blood off her hands, her eyes moved across my face cautiously and she withdrew slightly from my touch. I was surprised at how uncomfortably she was reacting to my knowing about her mutation, it was as if she somehow knew that I had once rejected her because of that.</p><p>I owed my daughter too many apologies. </p><p>“Me conocías bien” <em>You used to know me very well.  </em>I murmured after a few seconds of silence, bringing her hand closer to me as I carefully washed her knuckles. “Me pateabas cuando estaba aburrida y te ibas a dormir cuando estaba cansada. Eras una bebé muy buena” <em>You would kick me when I was bored and fall asleep when I was tired. You were such a good baby.</em></p><p>Laura smiled and stared at me curiously, but said nothing.</p><p>“Pero pesabas mucho” <em>But you were too heavy</em>. I added through a smile, rinsing the sponge before grasping her other hand.</p><p>At this, she giggled, glancing down, and relaxed her arm a bit.</p><p>“Silly mommy thought you were going to hurt me with these” I said, stroking the spaces between her knuckles. “I didn’t know anything about mutant babies then.”</p><p>Her smile slowly dissappeared and she looked up at me, stunned. </p><p>“You couldn’t see me, but I was watching over you” I continued, bringing up her hand to my lips. “I never left you, Laura."</p><p>She dropped her hand from mine and clung to the rim of the tub, drops of soapy water running down her fingers as she stared at me with an almost religious devotion. I continued washing her body, wondering what she was looking for, and what she found. We were slowly developing our own language, too complex for the limited world of words. It was pure intuition, pure awe and amazement. She seemed to forgive me. And I began to forgive myself.</p><p>After that, everything changed. Those simple words brought on a speedy, reckless clarity. Laura was enjoying her bath, relishing the smell of soap, the lather of shampoo, the clean of her own skin. I reached for her yellow fluffy towel, and as she moved to stand, she began to chatter enthusiastically, yet vaguely, about her friends. I wrapped the towel around her and lifted her out of the tub, then I started to dry her off, gasping in surprise and murmuring in agreement as called for. She was rushing the words out, barely pausing to draw breath. Luckily, I was a native Spanish speaker, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to catch all her words. I wondered if she was overcompensating for all the time she spent wrapped up in her quiet world.</p><p>We came out of the bathroom and went into the living room. Laura was currently sitting on the floor, looking cute in her cotton pajamas, and shrieking every five seconds as I tried to untangle her hair. I never learned how to style my own hair because I liked to wear it down, but I was willing to learn braid tricks and other stuff like that if she asked me to. Brushing my daughter's hair was one of those simple little things I’d dreamed about hundreds of times.</p><p>“Sorry” I muttered when she shrieked once more. “It’s too tangled”</p><p>“That’s because nobody ever… brushes it” she mumbled, stifling a growl. I didn’t need to see her face to know that she was squeezing her eyes shut, trying not to whine. “Not like this.” she added a bit stiffly. </p><p><em>“¿Y Gabriela qué?” </em>I asked, letting my hands drop, giving up on the knot.</p><p>“She wasn’t allowed to spend much time with me. She had to take care of five or six kids, and when we ran away, she was too busy trying to find motels where we could hide.” Laura said, rubbing her eyes harshly. <em>She was exhausted. </em></p><p>“That sounds like a lot of work” I muttered through wide eyes as I set the brush aside and began to run my fingers through her damp hair. “But she was nice to you, wasn’t she? She looked after you.”</p><p>“Always” Laura said somberly, glancing down at her hands. There was a pause, and then she asked, <em>“¿Mamá?” </em></p><p>I smiled, she made the word sound like a caress.</p><p>“Mmm?”</p><p>“¿También tienes que cuidar a los otros niños?” <em>Do you have to take care of all the other kids too? </em>Laura inquired, seeming concerned.</p><p>“No, I don’t <em>have to</em>, but I want to.” I answered honestly, reaching out to tuck a wet strand of hair behind her ear.</p><p><em>“¿Todo el tiempo?”</em> she asked hesitantly.</p><p>“Not all the time, only when they need me.”</p><p>“Okay” she said simply.</p><p>For a while, no one spoke, but I kept stroking her hair gently.</p><p>“<em>Laura</em>” I began, thinking up the best way to dispel her insecurities “Eden is not a Science facility, and the women here are not nurses. We are a family, we all look after each other. But you are my daughter, ok? You always come first. <em>Always</em>”</p><p>Admittedly, parts of me dreaded to share her with the rest of the world too. Some people were so screwed-up.</p><p>I leaned forward and kissed the nape of her neck, her delicious fresh-from-the-shower scent filling my nostrils. <em>“¿Sí?” </em>I pressed, tickling her. </p><p>She squealed loudly and turned to face me.</p><p><em>“Sí” </em>she said at last, before asking me to do it again. I couldn't fail to notice that even though Laura was laughing as I tickled her and covered her with kisses, her eyes were shadowed with the sadness of her loss, just like mine until a few hours ago. It was couple of minutes before she finally caught her breath and spoke again.</p><p>“Mom, <em>tengo hambre</em>” she said, a note of laughter still in her voice. </p><p>“Right” I muttered, strangely relieved to hear those words, as I picked her up and sat her on the sofa. “What do you want to eat?” I asked, walking over to the kitchen.</p><p>“Meatballs, asparagus, sweet corn, tacos, <em>pastel... </em>I want all that, please." she said casually. </p><p>"Ah, what a big shot you are" I was joking, when there was a knock at the front door.</p><p>“Can you get the door, <em>hermosa</em>?” I asked, scanning the contents of the refrigerator. Apparently, Laura was an exigent food lover. And thanks to Lori I wasn't a shitty cook anymore. </p><p>Then I heard them –the loud and annoying voices of Eloise and Mike Walker. <em>Fuck.</em></p><p>“OH MY GOD! Hi, sweetie!” Eloise exclaimed, standing by the door. “Aren’t you gonna invite us in?” she asked, leaning slightly forward, eyes fixed on Laura’s face. Mike was standing behind his wife with his arms crossed, waiting for her to move out of the way so he could get a better look at the girl.</p><p>This was the only couple in Eden I didn’t like. They had telepathic twins and loved to boast about it. Mike and Eloise were nosy, somewhat rude, and the reason why we had to blindfold people when they first came to Eden. According to Lori, two weeks after their arrival they shared on social media an ‘innocent picture’ that gave away Eden’s location. Thankfully, only members of their family saw it. Marie was furious.</p><p>Laura looked back to me a bit helpless, looking for my approval. I sighed inwardly and gave her a nod. </p><p>“Come in” I said, closing the refrigerator as I forced a thin smile to my lips. Laura dropped her hand from the door knob and moved aside then.</p><p>“Thank you, Sarah” Eloise muttered. Mike’s eyes were still glued on Laura as they walked through the door. Their morbid curiosity was annoying.</p><p>“I don’t even need to ask who you are, of course.” he told my daughter in a smug voice. “You look so much like your mommy!”</p><p>“Nah, she’s prettier.” I shrugged, approaching Laura. “Please, have a seat” I said, gesturing to the sofa as I handed my girl a chocolate cookie to nibble on while they were here. Eloise immediately made a face. She was one of those mothers that fed her children organic food and loved to tell other parents how to raise their kids. I fought the urge to roll my eyes.</p><p>“Can I get you something to drink…or eat?” I asked, my mother’s endless warnings about politeness and hospitality ringing in my head. </p><p>“No, thank you.” Eloise answered, still looking at the cookie in Laura's hand disapprovingly, even as they settled on the sofa. I walked over to the table and dragged two chairs up across from them before sitting down. Laura quickly took the seat beside me, but then changed her mind and sat on my knees instead, taking a big bite of her treat.</p><p>“It’s very nice to meet you, Laura. I’m Mike and this is my wife Eloise. We're so glad to have you here with us.” Mike said enthusiastically, keeping his gaze on the girl.</p><p>Laura didn’t even look at him, her eyes were locked on her cookie, the rapt attention of a unfamiliar person making her uncomfortable. I wrapped my arms around her and waited for her to answer, but she remained silent.</p><p>“What do we say, Laura?” I pressed, giving her belly a gentle pinch. She gave a little grunt and instinctively squeezed into me. I could feel her heart thumping hard in her chest.</p><p>Mike frowned for a moment in response to Laura’s strange behavior, and then he was smirking and leaning forward. “You don’t speak English, honey?”</p><p>“She does.” I blurted out.</p><p><em>Crap. </em>Marie had told me not to answer for her.</p><p>“Of course she does, Mike!” Eloise exclaimed loudly, feigning indignation. “All of her friends do, why wouldn’t she?” she shook her head and crossed her legs. I could feel the tension radiating off Laura’s body. She wasn’t eating her cookie anymore. “The girl’s just shy because, you know…she was isolated” The woman muttered under her breath.</p><p><em>Oh, god.</em> I held my daughter closer, suddenly feeling protective of her.</p><p>“To what do I owe the <em>pleasure</em> of your visit?” I practically hissed, quickly changing the subject.</p><p>Mike stalled for a moment, leaning back on the sofa before shrugging. “Well, we already met all the other children, so…we decided to stop by.”</p><p>For the Walkers, a mother meeting her child for the first time wasn’t reason enough to give them some privacy.</p><p><em>"That’s very nice of you.”</em> I muttered as I absently took Laura’s hand in mine. They didn’t seem to detect the note of sarcasm in my voice.</p><p>Mike shrugged once more, folding his arms. “Yeah, we wanted to be the first couple to make friends with Wolverine’s daughter.” At this, Laura’s head snapped up, and seeing that he’d finally caught her attention, Mike leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, even as he smiled triumphantly, looking intently into her eyes. “What’s your daddy like, sweetie? He’s my favorite X-Men.”</p><p>“Why are you asking her that, Mike! He got killed!” Eloise quickly scolded him.</p><p>I felt my anger burgeon. I wanted to snatch their words back out of the air, like moths, but they’d already crawled into my daughter’s ears. She was snaking her arms around my neck, burying her face in it.</p><p>“Did he?” Mike frowned, feigning confusion. “I thought he could heal.”</p><p><em>Screw hospitality. </em>“Get out” I growled at them, my eyes glinting hard. They turned their heads to look at me, their mouths hanging open.</p><p>“Get out. Both of you” I snapped. I was stroking Laura’s head, she was trembling.</p><p>“But we were just—” Eloise began.</p><p>“Get the<em> fuck </em>out of my house!” I shouted, standing abruptly. Laura flinched in my arms. <em>“Está bien, mi amor” </em>I whispered in her ear, before drawing in a shaky breath.</p><p>The couple slowly got off the sofa, looking pale.</p><p>“Alright” Mike mumbled, holding his hands up defensively.</p><p>I put Laura down –I had to pry her arms loose because she was holding me too tight-- and strode across the room before opening the door rudely for them. I watched them as they walked out of the cabin. <em>We didn’t need this shit</em>.</p><p>“Hey!” I called after them, I was so mad that my hands were shaking. The bewildered couple stopped and turned back to look at me. “Don’t you <em>ever</em> speak to my kid again.” I hissed.</p><p>Eloise silently moved her lips, trying to pick up the words, but I slammed the door shut in their face.</p><p>For a moment, I simply stood there, taking deep, deliberate breaths, trying to calm myself. I shook my head in frustration as I looked round the room. It was then that I realized that Laura wasn’t around. I sighed and walked away from the door.</p><p><em>“¿Laura?” </em>I called, walking over to her bedroom. “<em>Hija</em>”</p><p>I pushed the door open and gasped at the sight that lay before me.</p><p>There were comic books scattered all over the room. Laura was sitting on the floor with her face buried between her knees, adamantium claws unsheathed. I stared at the fresh blood rolling down her little hands, and winced.</p><p>“Laura” I muttered, crouching down in front of her. <em>“Mírame, hija” </em>I mumbled, stroking her arm as my eyes lingered on her claws. Now I understood why Tom had been so scared of her, they looked unbelievably sharp. I couldn’t believe they had done this to my baby.</p><p>“No las toques” <em>Don’t touch them. </em>Laura barely whispered when she realized I was staring at her hands. She sounded upset. “No las mires” <em>Don’t stare at them.</em></p><p>I waited, not moving a muscle. Laura hugged her legs to herself more tightly. She was just sitting there, silent, like she was going back through the memory of all she had experienced, like she was having some internal battle in her head, struggling to find the right words to tell me what she needed to say. The silence in the room was deafening. It was pulling us apart. </p><p>“Logan was an extraordinary father.” I said in a soft voice, feeling exposed and raw. “He really was.”</p><p>My daughter finally looked up at me, past me, her pure brown eyes were bright, wide with pain and despair. I stared at her, waiting, and she nodded. </p><p>"I want him back" The words were a low moan. </p><p><em>“Ven aquí” </em>I took her in my arms, careful to avoid the sharp weapons. Her little body was shaking as she fought back the sobs. Laura was not on the run anymore, trying to save her life. Eden was forcing her to face the loss of her father, and that made her scared. She withdrew her claws and clung fiercely to me. It was like she felt that her time with me was running out, like she was afraid <em>it</em> could happen all over again. </p><p>“Don’t shy away from the pain, baby.” I whispered tenderly. “Go on loving your dad. Expect him, miss him, talk to him. Don't say goodbye if you're not ready."</p><p>As soon as I said this, a heartrending sob came. I pulled her closer as she cried for the lost, one-of-a-kind father who would not watch her grow up, whose characteristic voice and movement would be harder to recall over time. Logan had begun to fade. And it hurt. It hurt bad.</p><p>Following an unconscious impulse, I rubbed her back and hummed softly, just like I used to do when she was in my belly, until her sobs began to subside. For a while everything was quiet. Laura was straddling my legs, her head resting on my shoulder, her back rising and falling steadily as she breathed. And just when I thought she’d finally succumbed to a peaceful sleep, she gave a quiet sigh and slowly pulled away from me.</p><p>"I left blood stains on your T-shirt" she muttered apologetically. </p><p>I stared at her face with half a smile. "I'd like to keep it" </p><p>Try as hard as she could to resist, she had to smile back. A little smile.</p><p>“¿Quieres saber un secreto?” <em>Would you like to know a secret</em>? I asked, wiping her eyes and nose with the hem of my 'ruined' T-shirt. </p><p>She nodded, placing her hands on my shoulders. </p><p>“Pero no le digas a nadie” <em>But don’t tell anyone.</em> I muttered confidentially. Laura shook her head and my smile widened even more. She was one for secrets.</p><p>“Marie was one of the X-Men” I whispered dramatically. “She’s Rogue”</p><p>Laura’s eyes widened and her mouth fell. “Rogue!” she exclaimed excitedly, before turning her gaze to one of the comic books on the floor.</p><p>“But there’s more…” I trailed off. She was now biting on the nail of her thumb, eaten up by curiosity. “She was your dad’s girlfriend”</p><p><em>“¡Su novia!” </em>she shouted, appalled. Like many little girls, Laura was very protective towards her dad.</p><p>I laughed openly at her adorable response, and she scowled. This was the first time I was laughing in years, <em>genuinely laughing</em>.</p><p>“Oh, come on! Don’t be so hard on her, Logan was hard to resist and you know it” I teased, poking her belly. “De hecho, tuve suerte de que lo eligieran como tu papá. Mira la niña tan hermosa que hicimos.” <em>In fact, I was very lucky they chose him to be your dad. Look at the gorgeous little girl we made. </em></p><p>“But you and dad didn’t make me, I was made in a laboratory. Gabriela told me.” I frowned a bit at her bluntness, but then laughed again, reassuring her. It was clear that she was a little confused. I could practically hear Lori laughing and whispering in my ear a <em>‘Told you so’</em>. Guess we could have that conversation later.</p><p>“You’re still ours, <em>mi</em> <em>amor</em>. One hundred percent” I said, kissing her sticky, tearstained cheek. “It doesn’t matter if you were made in a laboratory, you were never <em>theirs</em>, EVER. Besides, I gave birth to you and it hurt like hell, so give me some credit” I joked, and she finally smiled, absently lifting the dark hair that was lying on my shoulder and running her fingers through it.</p><p>“But my point is that Marie knew him well.” I continued on. “Whenever you miss your dad, you can talk to her, she’ll tell you everything you need to know about him. That’s better than a comic book, isn’t it?” I asked Laura, and she nodded quietly in agreement.</p><p>This would help Marie heal too. Nothing could ever make up for Logan’s death, but she could now keep loving him through his daughter. A special bond between my girl and her. A bond that would make things easier if I ever had to slide my baby into Marie’s arms.</p><p>“I like Marie, even if she forces me to speak” Laura mumbled, frowning. I could tell she was exaggerating.</p><p>“I like her too.” I replied, a bit amused.</p><p>“¿Y también conoció a Charles?” <em>Did she know Charles too?</em> She inquired, tilting her head as she continued to play with my hair.</p><p>“You mean Professor Xavier?” I asked, and she gave a nod. I’d never heard anyone call him by his first name --not even Marie-- he was a kind of sacred cow. “<em>Sí, claro que sí.</em> You can ask her about him too”</p><p>“He was nice to me, even nicer than Daddy” she admitted, smiling at some memory crossing her head. “He fed me when I was hungry and told me stories and even spoke to me in Spanish!” she added. </p><p>So <em>Charles</em> had been a sort of grandfather to her. “Then you’re going to love your <em>abuelo</em>” I found myself saying.</p><p>Her eyes went from wonder to confusion in a second. <em>“¿Abuelo?”</em></p><p>“Yeah, you have an <em>abuelo</em> and a grandmother too” I muttered as my mind conjured up blurry images of my parents building their retirement years around Laura, spending time with her in our old living room --a paradise full of homemade cookies, flowers, and pretty objects.</p><p>“When are we going to visit him?” she asked eagerly and I chuckled.</p><p>“I’m afraid that won’t happen anytime soon, <em>corazón</em>. He lives in Mexico City and we can’t go back.”</p><p>“Y cuándo podemos ir?” <em>And when can we go back?</em> she pressed. Marie was right, Laura liked to get her way.</p><p>“I don’t know, baby.” I replied honestly, and she made a face. “But don’t worry about that. This is your dad’s homeland and I’m here with you. We are home.”</p><p>Despite Eloise and Mike’s unpleasant visit, our first dinner together ended up being as special as I thought it would be. There was no pain, no dark thoughts, no faceless monsters, no white corridors. There was only us. We talked and laughed loudly, freely, as if we were immune to the cruel world outside. More than once I had to remind Laura to sit up straight and use the spoon properly. She found it slightly annoying, but it made her realize that, although I looked like her big sister, I was her mom and she wouldn’t escape an occasional scolding. The claws incident was long forgotten, and she even let me help her wipe the blood from her hands. Laura had a hard time putting what had happened to her on the way to Eden into words, but it was obvious from what she’d said, that she'd had to deal with an anguished Gabriela, an angry and alcoholic Logan, a sick Charles, small motel rooms, hunger, and even insomnia. Laura’s sorrow was nearly imperceptible by the time we left the table and went back to her room to clean up the mess she’d made.</p><p>For some reason I didn’t understand, I felt a tremendous sense of peace when we began to pick up the comic books and place them on one of the shelves. I had the curious feeling that they would stay there, untouched, for a long time. When I turned back to Laura, she was kneeling on the floor, holding the comic issue that had brought us here. She slowly flipped to the final pages and stared at the illustrated faces of her father and Charles, her eyes shifting their attention from one face to the other, then to the words <em>EDEN OR THE END…?</em></p><p>I moved to crouch down next to her and brushed her cheek with my lips. “I don’t think this is the end of the story” I whispered against her skin, a smile playing on my lips. I knew it then. This beautiful and courageous girl was destined for big things. But first, she would have to be patient, the wounds of her soul wouldn’t heal as fast as the wounds in her skin. </p><p>Wolverine’s daughter turned to me and smiled knowingly, closing the comic book. Time was suddenly redeemed. We were ready to rejoin this big and crazy world.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>**"Don't Leave Home", Dido.</p>
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<a name="section0019"><h2>19. EPILOGUE</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <em>**"Our lives are made</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>In these small hours</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>These little wonders</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>These twists and turns of fate</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Time falls away</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>But these small hours</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>These small hours still remain"</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Mamá, everything’s alright…</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Imagine any given morning. The sun bright and pleasantly warm, the sheets tangled around your body. You open your eyes, you wake up. Your daughter, the little girl that ran around in your dreams for years is lying next to you, fast asleep. She wandered into your bedroom in the middle of the night. You smile at the sight; her arms are wound tightly around a toy horse --<em>the one that chases bad dreams away-</em>- her straight dark hair in an untidy disorder. You carefully reach your right hand over toward her face and gently brush a long strand of her hair away from her sleeping eyes. She once lived off the pulse of your own blood so, to you, she is perfect.</p><p>You lean down and nuzzle her flushed cheek as you think,<em> ‘Wow, I made that.’ </em></p><p>Imagine everything that follows: the giggles, the missing shoe, the maple-syrup kiss, the walk to school.</p><p>Imagine it's Monday. Imagine realizing that this is the first ordinary morning of the rest of your<em> life.</em></p><p>+</p><p>+</p><p>+</p><p>
  <strong> <em>“I’m not X-23. I’m not your experiment. I’m not your fucking property! You are the last person who will ever think they can own me. No one owns me! I’m not a thing. I’m Laura Kinney! I’m the daughter of Sarah. I’m the daughter of Logan. I’m Wolverine!!!”</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>--Wolverine (Laura Kinney)</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>  </strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Each year more than 600,000 children and teenagers are trafficked and exploited around the world. They are forced into prostitution or to work in quarries and sweatshops, on farms, as domestics, as child soldiers, and in many forms of involuntary servitude. Traffickers use their privilege, wealth, or power as a means of control. They include individuals, business owners, members of a gang or network, government representatives and powerful corporate executives.</p><p>Many of these victims can’t be found anymore.</p><p>This story is dedicated to the survivors and their families… and to their brave battle to regain life.<br/>++++++++++++++++++++++++<br/>All the places mentioned in this fic (Neek Kaan, San Angel, Sheraton Hotel, Perisur, Ecatepec, Garden Santa Fe, the futuristic library, Reforma 222, Polanco, etc) do exist. Look them up if you're bored ;)<br/>±+++++++++++++++++++++<br/>**"Little Wonders", Rob Thomas.<br/>+++++++++++++++++++<br/>Don't forget to check out Laura's journey from nurse Gabriela's POV. Thank you for reading :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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